#and i am impatient as fuck so here goes nothing!

[pamsimmerstories]

Of course he knew :')

previous || next

-

[juniper]: *giggles* what do you think you’re doing, malcolm?

[juniper]: weren’t we only talking?

[malcolm]: can’t you see that i’m trying to seduce you?

[juniper tries to hold a laughter]

[juniper]: *laughs* don’t get me wrong... you’re hot, but this is just funny. i’m sorry

[malcolm]: this is all part of my plan... to make you laugh

[malcolm]: what if i get closer?

[juniper]: fuck! this is... *clears throat* malcolm... you promised

[malcolm]: how are you this strong?

[juniper]: believe me, i’m not. i just think you should know what i am before we do this...

-

[malcolm]: *sighs* tell me...

[juniper]: i’m just gonna say it

[malcolm]: that’s what i want from the beginning... if you already had told me that... we would be having sex right now

[juniper]: *laughs* omg! you’re so impatient

[malcolm]: i’ve been dreaming with this day for years, juniper...literally.

[juniper]: *chuckles* i know...

[malcolm]: so...?

[juniper]: alright... here goes nothing...

[juniper]: *deep sigh* i’m a werewolf

[malcolm]: okay

[juniper]: okay?

[malcolm]: i kind of knew it...

[juniper]: YOU KNEW?

[malcolm]: oh c’mon... the whole dream thing... i confess i was confused, but when i saw you... and the whole, glowing eyes sleeping naked on the floor... the scars, the “animal” attack... i know i look naive, but i’m not that naïve

[malcolm]: plus... my aunt is a witch... she had babies with the grim reaper. she gives me the creeps.

[juniper]: you really aren’t scared of me?

[malcolm]: not at all, june. i want you more than ever

[juniper]: this feels so good

[malcolm]: alright... now i have questions

[juniper]: alright...

[malcolm]: what’s up with your eyes? i’m trying to find a pattern here... i think i know, but i’m not sure

[juniper]: it happens when i feel heightened emotions, sometimes i can control it and sometimes i can’t. when i’m with you it’s almost impossible for me... right now i want you and i’m so happy that you accepted me for who i am...

[malcolm]: i’m happy, too

[juniper]: *grins* i can feel it

[malcolm]: *smirks* he actually has its own will, because i think now i’m too tired... and i’m sad

[malcolm]: it’s been a long day

[juniper]: i get it... we have time

[malcolm]: you’re so pretty, june. i wish i didn’t need to sleep, but i also want our first time to be good for you

[juniper]: i mean it... when i say i’m okay and that we’ll have all the time in the world...

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part 1 of 6)

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

🪄 re-uploaded because I had to make a new account.

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

3333 words

Warnings contain spoilers: domestic assault, cheating, swearing, name-calling, gaslighting, threats, and mentions of killing partner, general violence. Every chapter after this, will have Rafe as the focal point.

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨“Stopping in your tracks, you watch the tall blonde struggle to break free. He grits his teeth, fighting against the cuffs, his broad chest gaping at the buttons of his black button-down shirt. He looks like he’s been through it; a gashed lip, the bottom of his pressed shirt half-tucked, his hair messy and sweaty against his dewy, tanned skin.”✨

*blue font is present day

Reader’s POV:

Red wine, Tony’s favorite, Cabernet Sauvignon specifically. Tokara Telos, the first bottle of wine we shared on our very first date. Fitting for our two year anniversary. Slowly swirling the glass you watch the rich red wine cascade down the side. You look at the oven, eyeing the clock, watching a second hour pass. Nine… Dinner was set for seven. Where the hell is he? Maybe he texted me? Maybe he’s in a business meeting gone long or wrong?

Unread to read. Your heart skips a beat as you watch the three dots impatiently; Tony finally acknowledging you, letting you know where the fuck he is and what the hell he’s doing.

Nothingness.

The three dots disappear leaving behind the disappointing chain of messages.

Is he with someone else?

I hate that that’s where my mind goes first, since he’s assured me time and time again he’s faithful and I’m paranoid. It’s hard to give him the benefit of the doubt when there’s so much to doubt. Every excuse just sounds so fabricated with him, corroborated by his goons so I don’t have a leg to stand on.

Then there’s the talk around the country club… It’s just whispers, no real proof, but I swear it’s so goddamn loud. I’m rarely at the Island Club, but when I am, I can see the eyes on us. The cutting watch of women who Tony could possibly be seeing on the side; gossip shared just out of earshot. Everyones’ pity and focus always seems to be directed at me.

It’s embarrassing to feel like everyone knows my drama but me. No one opens their mouths. Ya know why? They’re scared… Scared of him. And I don’t blame ‘em. I’d be scared too.

So here I sit. Getting stood up by my boyfriend while he’s out doing god knows what, with god knows who, because he can. He can do whatever he’d like, break my heart, bruise my ego, because deep down I know there’s nothing I can do… The day I met him was the day I lost myself.

“Vlad,” you call from the kitchen, your voice bouncing off the walls of the lavish estate. “Vlad?”

“Miss?” Tony’s driver comes around the corner with a broad smile, taking in the smells of whatever lingers of the now cold pom de terre. “Smells delicious, Miss. I didn’t know you were a cook.”

“I’m not,” you sigh through a labored laugh. “Just thought I’d make what we had on our first date,” you hum, hearing the drunken slur in your own voice. Vlad cocks an eyebrow, clocking it instantly. “Umm… Dinner was supposed to be at seven,” you sough, gesturing with your glass toward the clock. “Do you know where he-”

“How was lunch with Anna?” He cuts you short, quickly changing the subject, leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Where’s Tony,” you return, trying your best to level your wavering tone, dismissing his “pleasantries”.

“The office-”

“What office exactly?” You snip, knowing it’s the Law Firm or The Country Club. Vlad’s gaze casts to the floor. He shuffles his Italian leather boot anxiously, not as good with his “excuses” as the other men on Tony’s payroll. It’s a wordless answer nonetheless - The Country Club. “Can you take me there? I want to make sure he has some dinner. I’m assuming he’s been there all day. The meeting just went long?” You ramble, without a verbal answer from him, gathering your things to leave as the older man flounders.

"Miss…” He cautions you, taking his turn with a faltering tone, making matters worse for Tony.

“Is there an issue?” You ask as you lift an eyebrow in his direction.

“Mr. Marietta is in an important meeting. As you know, they’re not usually the safest situations, and he demands your safety. Tony expressed to me that he would be home late. Would you like me to call him and ask when he’ll be coming home?” You roll your eyes, chuckling in disbelief as you stroll past him.

“I am perfectly capable of that,” you breathe as you snag a new bottle of red wine, heading out the door.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

The Country Club comes into sight, the gaudy neon sign flickering from a distance. The parking lot is packed, littered with cars; always jam-packed on the weekends. Kooks, Pogues, and tourists alike all brought together for their shared love of pussy.

“Park there,” you guide from the backseat as you spot Tony’s blacked-out Maybach truck parked under the streetlight. Vlad locks eyes with you through the rearview mirror.

“Would you like me to call him before you go inside, Miss?” You shake your head ‘no’ as you look out the window, drawing a deep, nervous breath before pushing out.

What am I walking into?

“Y/n?” Luis, Tony’s bodyguard and bouncer, calls from his seat outside the door. “What are you doin’ here?” He looks in all directions for watchers-on anxiously, the blood drained from his face like he’d just seen a ghost. Only a handful of people even know that Tony owns this shithole. To virtually everyone on the Island he’s just another Kook King. The Marietta to the Marietta and Klaus Law Firm. This is simply a front for something bigger, something Tony can use to wash his dirty drug money; a front. “You just missed Tony,” he lies through his gold-capped teeth.

“He’s here,” you smile as you step toward the door, grabbing the handle. Luis rests his large palm on top, looking down at you blankly. “He’s in a meeting, Miss.”

“And-” You ask as you twist the knob, but Luis doesn’t budge. “Move.”

“No.”

“Get the fuck out of my way,” you snap. Luis’s jaw tightens as he shakes his head ‘no’ standing firm. “You said he wasn’t here. Now he’s here and I can’t go in? That’s my fuckin’ boyfriend,” you hiss.

“I have orders, ma’am.”

“Orders?” You scoff.

“Orders-”

“Pussy,” you spit, turning on your heels, heading back where you came. Plan B. You pick up speed, clipping down the asphalt before he can intervene, following the line of men waiting outside, before slipping through the front door.

Your head hangs low as you walk through the dim, seedy hallway, pushing past patrons sauntering in and out of the gentlemen’s club. The main floor. I’ve never been here… The office is the farthest I’ve gone. You catch a few familiar faces from the Island Club, their eyes doubling in disbelief and shame for seeing you here and being seen themselves. Music blares as you storm toward the back; beautiful women dancing on the stage in nothing but Pleasers for the swarm of men gathered around, flicking and raining ones on the stage.

“Yes,” you gasp as you watch a stripper step out from behind the back-of-house door; catching it before it swings shut. Just a few paces and you’re there. You slide in your key and open the office door without a second thought, ripping off the bandaid.

Nothing… The office is dark, only the light of Tony’s laptop glowing in the empty post. Maybe he is gone. You step toward it, letting your heart rate settle as you circle his desk.

The corner of your lips curl into a trembling smile as you see a framed picture of the two of you on his desk. A post-it note affixed to the top with a reminder for tonight’s date.

Maybe I am paranoid… You pull out his large leather desk chair, taking a seat. Drawing a deep, needed breath, you let your shoulders fall, releasing some of your tension. It doesn’t explain why his truck is still here… Your eyes flash open, returning to the worry at hand landing on a bar napkin. Red lipstick.

Your stomach sinks as you hold the note, your eyes flicking to the laptop screen. Oh my god. Your heart shatters as you watch a blonde bounce on Tony’s lap, his lips locked on hers.

“No…”

“I know,” you sigh as you relax your head back onto the cold brick wall of Kildare County Jail, looking up at the ceiling.

“Did ya kill 'em?” The woman asks in a gruff tone as she crosses her arms over her chest, tits spilling out of her tattered, lace bralette as she snaps her gum. “S'that why you’re in here?”

“Thought about it? But no. That’s not why I’m here.” You open your heavy eyes, taking in your surroundings, contemplating all the choices that landed you here. The worst of it, ever being with him in the first place.

“So, what happened next?”

“Well…”

There’s a brief separation as Tony draws away from their kiss, staring toward the door of the Champagne Room. Luis… He must have figured it out. Tony pushes the stripper off his lap, gathering his clothes as he frantically dresses.

Here we go.

You hear the muffled bang of the first door and the gritting of his key working the lock on the second. You watch as the knob twists, light flooding the room as Tony pushes into the office coming toward you fast. Tony grabs your shoulders, and you fight him off. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” you snap.

“Baby, please. You gotta talk to me? What’s going on? Why are you so upset? Please just talk to me,” he pleads like he’s done before; times when I gave him the benefit of the doubt; times when I believed I could be the problem here. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Tony!” You cry. “Are you fuckin delusional? I saw you fuckin’ that stripper with my own two eyes.”

“Princess, she was just dancing. It was a lap dance. Alright? You have to believe me.”

“Just a lap dance…” You scoff looking down at his undone belt, zipper down, dress pants pitched from his hard-on. He follows your eyes, hastily zipping and fastening his pants closed.

“I don’t know what you think you saw-”

“We’re done,” you chuckle tiredly as you step back, throwing open the side office door. Tony immediately reaches for you, clawing for your arm. “Let go of me,” you struggle.

“You’re not leavin’,” he asserts, pulling you back inside.

“I am. I’m done with you. It’s our anniversary, Tony. Look at where you are. Look at what you’re doing. How could you do this to me?”

“Do what? It was just a dance. I just got out of a major deal. Alright? I was about head home-”

“Liar!”

“Liar?” He questions. “Did you just call me a liar?” He asks as you feel the sting of his blunt fingernails digging into your arm.

“I know what I saw…”

“Princess… Even if I was lying. What the fuck are you gonna do about it. Huh? You’re mine, bitch. I own you. Where are you gonna go? What money do you have? How are you gonna afford this lifestyle you’ve become so accustomed to? Spending my hard-earned money like the gold-digging slut you are. You should be grateful,” he snarls as he steps toe-to-toe with you using his free hand to tug his leather belt from the loops of his pants.

You look up into his dark eyes as cruel words spit so readily from his wicked lips like he’s had time to prepare. I’ve seen this side of him, only once. He’s an evil man, and I know that. But this sort of cruelty has never been reserved for me. Until today. He grips his belt a little tighter in his fist making you take a few steps back but he stalks closer.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he threatens.

“I am,” you whisper as you try to remain firm.

“I don’t think you understand this relationship we’ve got goin’ on, sweetheart. You go when I say you go,” he growls, tracing the belt along your bare thigh. “Do you think you’ll have a life after me? You think I’ll allow that shit.” He winds up smacking it against your skin. You gnash your teeth in pain, holding back tears, the most horrifying part knowing he could go far harder. “You know too much. You’re a liability. You have nothing. You are nothing without me. And you will be nothing without me.” Chills fall down your spine at his words and the crazed look in his eyes, his pupils blown from coke, pleasure, and rage.

“M'not scared of you.”

“You’re not. Huh? My tough girl.” He leans in; lips draw to your neck, kissing your pulse point, your rapid heartbeat calling your bluff as you inhale Cassidy’s cheap perfume lingering on his skin. You pinch your eyes shut as his large hand threads into your hair, tugging slightly while the other soothes your stinging thigh with his rough palm.

“I came from nothing, Tony. I’ll be fine.”

He scoffs as he uses his grasp on your strands to shove you away, letting the back of your head and body bang against the side door. Tony buttons up his still-undone shirt; bright red lipstick stained on the collar as well as his neck, a dark hickey forming to boot. Tears roll down your cheeks as you stand there defeated in your date night dress, your perfect makeup now streaming down your cheeks as you look into his soulless eyes.

“Fuck you, Tony.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he chuckles as he pulls a cigarette out from behind his ear, placing it between his lips before snapping his lighter. “You leave, and I’ll find you. I own Figure 8, princess. Hell, I own this whole damn island. You better not make it too hard on me, baby doll. It’s our anniversary, after all. I’m sure you got somethin’ pretty for Daddy under that little dress of yours. I know you like it rough… but you might not make it out this time,” he laughs as he tosses his belt roughly toward his desk, the picture of the two of you clattering and shattering on the floor.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Me? Never… But if my hands are wrapped tight enough around that pretty little throat of yours and you don’t have enough juice to shout our safe word that’s on you, angel.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’ll give you a 5 minute head start, love. That seems fair?”

You grab the door and pull it open, taking a few steps before turning around again, pressing your back against the cool door, holding it shut as you look for an out. Luis is gone from his post, most likely keeping watch on the opposite end, Vlad in the parking lot, open water on the other side. There’s no way I can go back home. No family close by. No car. No escape. Looking out into the busy parking lot, you watch a squad car slow-roll through the back of the lot. Perfect.

Thank you, Luis. You reach down, snagging his Louisville Slugger perched against the weathered barstool. "Miss?” You hear his bodyguard’s frantic voice as he rounds the corner. You run into the lot as fast as your feet can take you, swerving around cars; dodging Luis.

You slam your eyes shut, swinging hard, nailing Tony’s Maybach truck, shattering the glass. The car alarm blares, echoing through the large lot. “Y/n!” Luis yells, but you swing and swing again.

“Y/n!” Tony barks from the door. You point the bat in his direction, twirling it before knocking off the wing mirror and sending it flying. A second siren fires, the sound of the police cruiser blares through the night, competing with the truck as it gets closer and closer.

You nail the glass, shards spilling into the truck as the cruiser pulls up, moving to the front of the vehicle you make your delinquency visible, quickly knocking out each headlight while the deputies climb out of their vehicle. “Get on the ground. Get on the ground now!” They holler.

“Deputy, this… this is a misunderstanding,” Tony assures as he enters the lot, softening his voice again.

“No, it’s not. And if I had a knife, I’d slash your tires, asshole.” The officers grab for you, expecting a fight, ultimately getting the latter. You cross your arms behind your back, smiling at Tony as they lock you in cuffs.

"Well, shit,” the older woman chuckles as she pulls you back to reality.

“Mhmm… but I’m a liability. After that little stunt I pulled, I know I’m living on borrowed time. Jail is the only place I could leave and be safe for the night. It’s just a band aid though; a temporary fix. I’m sure he’ll bail me out any minute, but who knows what’ll happen? I want to show him I’m not afraid.”

She purses her lips, debating whether to ask the million dollar question. “Are you?” She asks somberly.

“I wish I wasn’t-”

“L/n, someone just bailed your ass out. Let’s go,” an officer calls from outside the cell. The woman beside you taps your leg, giving you a little nod.

“He lays a finger on you, honey, I got no problem comin’ back here.”

“Thank you,” you whisper before turning toward the officer, giving her a wide, fake smile.

You rise to your feet, fixing your dress as you walk to out-processing. “To the left.”

Shupe matches your gaze from his post, giving you a wary glance. “M'am, are these your belongings?” He asks as he holds up the plastic bag of goods. You give him a soft smile and a nod. “Sure you got nothin’ you wanna tell me, Miss F/N L/N. Now’s the time,” Shupe warns. “You know, it’s Tony who posted your bail. He’s waitin’ for you outside-”

“I’m fine. Just fine, Deputy,” you assure as you fish your lipstick out from your clutch, slicking it on in the reflection of the privacy glass. “It was nothin’. Just a misunderstanding, as I said.”

“Just fine? Trashing Mr. Marietta’s Maybach truck was nothing? Just a normal night for the two of you?” He asks sarcastically.

You look at him and smile, dead-eyed and defeated. “It was our anniversary, actually.” Shupe’s eyes widen at yours, the occasion making your story even more unbelievable. “Have a great day, Deputy.”

“This is not a beauty pageant,” the female officer grunts, shooing you toward the exit.

I don’t know if I made the right choice… but I’m not gonna snitch. If I want to survive, I’m going to have to be strategic.

“I’m cooperating. Ain’t I?” You hear a deep voice echo down the hallway.

Stopping in your tracks, you watch the tall blonde struggle to break free. He grits his teeth, fighting against the cuffs, his broad chest gaping at the buttons of his black button-down shirt. He looks like he’s been through it; a gashed lip, the bottom of his pressed shirt half-tucked, his hair messy and sweaty against his dewy, tanned skin.

His eyes match yours; even from a distance, you can see how blue they are. His entire demeanor shifts, softening as a smile pulls on his pretty lips. A smile so beautiful, you can’t help but return the same.

There’s something magnetic about him, an intensity drawing your focus to him like a moth to a flame. He winks, and in that instant, everything changes. There’s no mistaking the connection swelling between you.

“Hey,” he mouths; your breath catches in your chest, pulse-quickening as time slows to a snail’s-pace. He looks at you until the last minute before being shoved inside his confinements. The metal door slams shut, jarring you from your daze, the bustle of the jail building from the solace in your mind.

Who was that?

It was momentary… a fleeting beat. The calm before the storm. You get pushed along, shoved toward the exit, and away from a sweet dream, thrown straight into a nightmare.

Part 2

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[br4tphobia]

not so innocent + armin arlert .

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ details + “INNOCENT” ! ARMIN A. x Shy! Black Reader, small dirty talk, back shots, hair pulling, profanity, armin fucking you DUMB, semi public sex, groping, unprotected sex (wear condoms!), oral (m receiving), sex little plot (im sorryyryr) overstimulation, fingering, cock drunk reader, mean armin, bimbo! reader (if u squint), armin as yo study buddy ♡

✧˖*° vals note!! + IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, COLLEGE IS A BITCH 😭😭😭

you needed help in chemistry, and you were desperate. you were tired of seeing E’s and tried studying harder and harder for upcoming quizzes but it never clicked for you...

“and the highest score goes to Armin Arlert, with a 97.” you hear that name majority of the time when it comes to highest scores, but you never thought of asking him to tutor you. he can tell your struggling, he may or may not have caught of glimpse of your scores.

later that day you caught him in the library, knowing there probably wont be another opportunity you took it. “hey! armin, can i..?” you whisper yell, before getting permission to sit down with armin. “whats up?” his voice is light and comforting.

“i was wondering if you could like.. you know.. help me in chemistry?” you start picking at your nails, afraid of rejection and embarrassment, your overthinking was cut short to a giggle “of course, we can start right now or later? its up to you.” flashing a toothy smile, “now would be great..”

“alright, luckily i was already studying chemistry, so that saves us some time.”

—.ೃ࿐

“many kinds of organohalides form gridnar— ” his calming tone went quiet as you zoned out, admiring his features. his blonde extra strands of hair infront of his eyes, sharp jawline, pierced ears, his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the way he licks his lips after every few sentences, hes..really cute.., you thought to yourself. “ʏ/ɴ?” … “y/n!”

you snap back into reality, “are you ok..?” he asked in a worried expression, with furrowed eyebrows finding you dumbfounded, wide eyed and agape mouth. “o–oh yeah! continue, im sorry..” you reply nervously. “you know if you’re uncomfortable, tell me.. you can trust me.” he gave u a comforting smile; you felt yourself getting warm all over before returning one back to him, hes so sweet, you were on the verge of swinging your feet and twirling your hair. he continued to read, as the same thing happened again.

checking him out once again before sighing, acknowledging youre staring at him. “Y/n..” you shoot up like a puppy staring back into his low eyes, “you know, if you didnt wanna study… you couldve said so. ” he accused, closing the text book. “huh.. no! of course i wanna study! what am i here for..?” you explained in panic, hoping you didnt ruin whatever bond you both had going on. “to eye fuck me?” ..no response. “hm?” he waited impatiently for a answer. opening your mouth to make up an excuse “ I..” nothing comes to mind, being found dumbfounded again, falling for his “innocence”. you look down to pick at your fingers again.

he slid his hand up your thigh, the other one on your chin “go on..say it.” hypnotized by his low tone, again no response. a small laugh came from him “youre cute..” he leaned in closer, “let me know if im reading the room wrong..” taking off his glasses before he kissed you, placing his tongue in your mouth. he rubbed circles on your thigh, your core getting hotter by the second.

you slid your hand over his buldge, stroking his cock through his sweatpants. “fuck.." he pulled from the kiss and rolled his head back taking a breath out. pulling his cock out youd be lying if his size didnt surprise you. you started stroking him, smiling softly and u his watched cock twitch with his slit over flowing with precum. you wanted him then and there. you spit on his tip, stroking it faster before you go down on him. swirling your tongue around his head. “oh shit..” he bucked his hips into your mouth, looking up at him, curling your lips up a bit, you cant help but feel powerful. you were making him feel good and you knew it.

“ just like that…” he whispered, moving your hair out the way. popping and slurping echoed through the room mixed with his pretty moans. he pushed your head down getting more turned on at the sound of your gags. his groans and moans getting louder “im gonna haah~..cum..” you bobbed your head faster, eager for his cum. “look at me..” he huffed, feeling him twitch in your mouth. opening your mouth letting his tip sit on your tongue as his nut slid down your throat. “fuck.. look at you..” he grabbed your chin and kissed you.

he picked you up and put you on the desk, slipping you out of your clothes and throwing them on the floor, he stood there. examining your body in awe, tracing your curves with the tip of his fingers. “youre so pretty..” whispering as he made his way to your thighs, drawing unknown shapes on the inside of your thighs, dangerously getting close to your core.

you buck your hips, trying to tell him you need it, he continues to trace the outlines of your folds, making his way up and dragging 2 fingers down, just barely making contact with you clit. “arminn p-please..” crying out, tired of the teasing. “please what? dont know why youre begging if i dont know what your begging for..” you whine at his sly remark. “your fingers..” you mumble in embarrassment, hoping he’d do it.

“thats all i wanted to hear..” he drags his fingers up your pussy and inserts his middle and ring, his fingers causing a short sound of squelching as you gasp and roll your head back. “fuck..” feeling stimulation on your puffy clit, rubbing it the right way. his fingers knuckles deep scissoring, pumping and curling inside of your wet pussy hitting all the right spots.

tears forming at the brim of your eyes, he watched your facial expressions and body language as you start getting louder, knowing you feel your high approaching already, whining louder. “aw look at you..i haven’t even fucked you and you’re moaning like a slut on my fingers..” the corner of his lips turning up, pressing harder on your clit.

“o-oh fuck—” breathy moans kept falling from your plump lips, releasing all over his fingers, pulsing around them as you try to catch your breath from your intense orgasm. “damn..already?” a small laugh came from his chest, “bend over the desk f’me..” without a thought you bring yourself down with quivering legs and arch your back over the desk, just like he asked as he pulled you closer to him and slid his cock through your folds, slapping it on your clit. you yelp from the sudden shock of being caught off guard, he drags his tip down at your hole then stops.

you stare at him, only to be beaten by him glaring back, then moving his eyes back at your exposed cunt. “go ahead, slide it in.” he gave you the go ahead, you wrapped your long acrylics around his dick and slide his fat tip in with a soft moan.

“shit—” he cursed at shoving all 7 inches inside you, stretching you out perfectly. he let you adjust for a few seconds then start thrusting inside you, stroking you deep. you let out a gasp at his tip poking your cervix every few thrusts, “f—fuck..armin..” you moan quietly, not wanting to get caught.

more moans and groans came from the both of you, you try to keep your volume down from his deep strokes but you cant help it. his cock pounding into you with no mercy even how much you beg him to slow down. balls slapping your clit, cervix being poked continuously, lipgloss smeared, sweating edges and messed up lashes?! this boy was fucking you stupid.

he tugs on your hair, causing your back to arch, making him go deeper than we was before. his tip pushed harder into your womb, a familiar heat formed in your stomach, “shit im gonna c–cum..” you slap your hand over your mouth, still fearing of being caught. “go ahead..make a mess.” shuddering beneath him, “god..” armin threw his head back in ecstasy, fucking you through your orgasm. “s-shit armin..”

your body shakes and burn with overstimulation, still fucking your harsh. “i c-cant..” you sounded like you were about to cry and armin loved it. it turned him on even more. “cant what? speak up.”

“its t—too much..” your hiccups and moans were downright pornographic. “shut up and take it.” he gripped on your throat from the back and pinned your head down. strings of squeaky moans and silent screams came from you. he loved how much of a slut he made out of you. all for him.

you eyes rolled to the back of your head whispering inaudible curses at his intoxicating strokes. you feel your second orgasm approaching again already. “shit… im gonna cum…” he slowed down, rolling his hips into you slow and sensually, armins soft pants and moans got louder before biting his lip to shut himself up. you feel your third orgasm approaching again, “c—cumming..” you choke on another silent moan as you lose all strength thats holding you up.

gushing all over his cock before he pulled out and released on your back with a moan. he watched your pussy drip with your cum in awe, the sight alone could make him nut again. “you still with me..?” he tone laced in concern, “yeah…”

“i-im sorry.. for..you know.” you whisper in humiliation, armin let out a small laugh and wiped his seed off your back. “its fine, i enjoyed it anyway. did u plan this..?” he furrowed his eyebrows again, “nono! i swear i didnt..” your mind went into a small state of panic.

“hey, trust me i believe you." a small silence occured

"so u wanna continue or.."

theemrsjaeger 2023 © do not plagiarize, copy, or repost anything I post. reblog this if you enjoyed 🩷

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

meaning upon motion: rosquez [e]

Marc catalogues those things that keep showing up.

The rosé wine he likes—God, Valentino used to give him so much shit for that, him and his girly drinks. Sugar next to the coffee pot. A room for himself, but Valentino’s door is always open. The towels are 100% cotton, silken soft to the touch.

It says—something, maybe, or it’s the heavy roll of all that fucking wine in his stomach.

Marc doesn’t want to look too closely into it, so he doesn’t. Everything is still there.

Valentino makes a noise, that cross between kissing his teeth and clicking his tongue. “Tomorrow, eh?” He says, pointing his chin to the window, to the track outside.

Rain had turned it into a slippery hellslide, all brackish puddles and mud banks. He’d been thinking about that track for ten years now, give or take. Dreading it, picturing it, loving it. If they go to shit tomorrow, if racing does to them what it likes to do, he’ll have gone up on a dirt bike there anyway.

It helps. A little.

“Yeah,” Marc mutters. He goes for another sip, finds his glass empty.

Valentino is right there, though. Their calves are touching. Their knees. He lets out a soft ah, let me and fills it again for him, just a couple of fingers, almost like a fancy restaurant. It’s funny, because a couple of minutes—hours—ago, they were pretty far from each other on this ratty couch.

Marc snorts. Doesn’t want to linger on this either. “Who else is coming?”

“I tell you, no? Just the two of us.”

Valentino’s expression stutters, his baby-fine eyebrows twitching and his mouth pursing. Marc wouldn’t have noticed if they weren’t so close.

“Did you? Sorry, I forgot.” It comes out easy, that harmless little lie.

Problem is, Valentino is bright like a knife between the ribs. “You are alone,” he points out. Then, less sharply: “I think, allora, for sure he brings Álex this time.”

Marc pulls a face, and Valentino breaks into a chuckle. He’d considered it, for a brief, panicky half second, right before he boarded on the plane to Bologna.

But Álex is already unhappy enough with this whole thing.

So Valentino is right—he is here alone. No Ducati mechanics, which he could’ve demanded, back to their usual tune; no Álex, which was expected; none of his branded bikes.

And the Ranch is empty.

“He wouldn’t leave the dogs,” is what Marc settles on saying rather than why don’t you have any of your staff here? Where are your Academy boys? Why are you doing this? Am I being stupid again? Is it funny? Another little harmless lie.

“All the better for me.”

Marc smiles. “Isn’t it usually?”

And that’s how the night goes, the two of them not quite talking, brushing against the heat of each other, edges dulled on rosé wine. Marc allows himself to wonder if tonight, maybe, but nothing happens.

The disappointment only softens the next morning, when Valentino shows up at his door at an insensate hour and drags him to the garage. He shepherds Marc along, a hand splayed on his back, between his shoulder blades, to show him—

“So?”

Valentino is basically bouncing. Trying to play it cool, with another impatient tsch sound, but his eyes are too keen, and there’s something jittery about the sway of his long, spindly arms.

Marc swallows past the tangle in his throat. Unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

It is an MX Honda, a red and orange 93 emblazoned on the front, two stroke engine. Not his model, but close enough. Everything about it is smooth and new and polished. If he tried, he thinks he would be able to smell the leather, the freshness of undented metal. His stomach rolls, light and airy like a frizz of champagne.

What an odd, expensive thing to do for a one-off guest when you have dozens of bikes around. Marc would’ve ridden any of them.

“It is,” he fishes for a word. Any word. Everything he feels is the hook of affection tangled in his guts, tugging. His mouth might as well be stuffed with cotton. “Good. Tell me the specs?”

“Always the hunt with you,” Valentino says.

It sounds mean—a little. In that way of Valentino’s of prodding bruises. Fond too, with him squeezing his arm, fingers lingering on the crook of his elbow. Marc wants to get on it already. Wants to race. Wants to freeze this instant, Valentino golden in the morning sun, just the two of them, talking about a dirt bike’s innards.

Leathers, gloves, boots, helmets. They hop in, and the track unfurls ahead of him. Dejavu threatens to kick Marc off the first five or so laps, where they aren’t exactly racing yet. It’s not that different—except the angle of a few corners. Too narrow here, too wide there, places where it’s either his memory fumbling or Valentino, shockingly, making changes.

“Still remember it?” Valentino prods, shouting over the engines rumbling. Marc can picture it, the slanted curve of his grin.

He scoffs. “Of course.”

Then they are racing, reckless with it. Valentino slides on a half-dried mud patch when he gets off the usual line to try and overtake him. Marc goes down too low on a corner and loses the front. They kick up dust and dirt, laughing uproariously, and Marc allows himself to think, just once, that Valentino has to be up to something.

It is easy anyway, to have fun, even if he knows that Valentino is shrewd, no stitch without a knot, even if he’s prickling, restless, unkissed. They didn’t come up with rules, so the excuse of racing becomes a graceless overtake fest, round and round and round, until their bikes start to splutter without fuel.

Valentino leads them through a final show, a victory lap on the colosseum, bathed by the infernal midday sun. Leads them to the kitchen after that—chipped plates, an atrocity of a tablecloth, horrendous yellow flowers on a green field. Another world from the track, it looks like.

There’s escabetx. The fish is soggy—reheated—but it tastes good. Familiar. Way, way, way above Valentino’s cooking skills.

Dishes left on the sink for later or tomorrow or whenever, they circle back to the couch. It throws Marc off more than the changes to the track, more than his growing catalogue of things that don’t quite add up. Last time he was here, there wasn’t a moment to think. The Ranch was full of cameras, and events, and eager-hungry Academy kids, and personnel, and PR stuff.

Valentino brandishes a small chocolate bar like a parrying knife. Breaks off a piece for himself, shoves the rest in his hands. Marc can’t pretend to not want it. He’s always liked sweetness.

He can’t pretend to not have something on his mind either. It lingers, red-hot.

Might as well do it. Make it real.

“Valentino,” he starts, gets cut off.

“Are you having fun?”

Marc’s mouth clicks shut. He prods his tongue against his teeth, the chocolate sticking there, to not laugh. The weave of them sitting so close feels like crystal in his grip. Fragile glass. It’s very Valentino. A bit myopic. He’s immortalized moments less gentle than this. Cradled them close and kept them with him forever.

And really, fun.

Was fun ever the issue?

“Of course,” he answers, smiles. The corners of his eyes are crinkling, he knows, but so are Valentino’s.

There’s a suspended beat, Valentino inching closer, about as subtle as his neon merch. “But is it fantastic—the best you’ve ever had?”

Marc does laugh this time. Valentino aims for smug, hits it pretty well.

“Almost.”

And it’s a mindfuck, that he sees the way Valentino straightens up in real time. Now that he isn’t so young anymore, buzzing with the chance of touching a streak of the divine. Now that he can recognize the man in him—which is no less devastating, truth be told. The little frown on his forehead, deepening the wrinkles there.

Tell me, he says without saying, spreading his hand on Marc’s ankle. “You used to be pushier when I was twenty.”

Valentino’s breathing does something funny. A convulsive little wheeze.

“You,” he starts, has to try again. “In Argentina.”

Marc looks off to the side.

Argentina, right. His arm had been hurting, chainsaw teeth to the old wound. Álex had been watching, a worried, unhappy tilt to his lips—one in a sea of pinched-tight faces, going from the jerky seesaw of his shoulder to Valentino standing there, close. Too many cameras, too many eyes, too many points he could win. Did win.

And Marc is as superstitious as he can afford to be.

Nothing good can come out of Termas, of Sepang—like nothing good can come out of Galilee.

Marc doesn’t remember what he said, exactly. Only that he’d been clenching down on a razor blade for the whole weekend and very, very tired of being in pain. If Valentino touched him then, it’d have hurt too. But now he has Marc’s ankle, and a bike for him, and Catalan food, and chocolate, and soft towels, and everything rattling in his mind for the past thirty-something hours is—

Kiss me.

“But it’s fine, now.” It isn’t.

It categorically isn’t, but it’s stupid to worry about that. Why tempt this into breaking? Marc licks chocolate off his fingers, Valentino’s eyes burning on his hands, his mouth. He clambers into his lap with the sugar sharp on his tongue, their knees knocking together.

Careful, mild, it never lasts, not between them. Valentino gets both hands on his waist, thumbs digging on the sliver of skin where his undershirt has ridden up.

The small bite of pain is exquisite. Barely anything, but still.

“Cannot be easy, hm?” Valentino hums, lilting, bemused, closer than they’d been since that odd week between Sepang and Valencia.

“Like you want it easy.”

He spits out the word, and Valentino laughs. Runs his fingers over the jut of his hipbones. “Allora, we can say we try, it is boring.”

It’s that small sway of movement that gets him. His head is spinning. He surges into the kiss he’s been hungry for a humiliating stretch of time, catches the noise Valentino makes ravenously. Marc likes it more than he thought he would, making out like teenagers—nipping at Valentino’s lower lip to make him hiss, licking into his mouth.

The kisses start melting together, one after the other after the other. They’re greedy, unashamed. Marc only realizes they’re grinding against each other when Valentino breaks off, groans, sweat beading on the edge of his thinning hair.

“Do you want—” Valentino skims his hand over the knobs of his spine. Marc wedges them closer together, leaning in to suck a bruise on the hollow of his throat.

“Not yet,” he mumbles there, hidden, safe as it gets. “No. Sorry. I am not—I do not know what—”

“Alright,” Valentino tells him, brusque but not unkind. “Alright.”

Is it, Marc wants to ask, but instead he takes his time pressing his teeth to Valentino’s jaw, leaving a red imprint there. Marc can feel him hard against him, pressing against his belly. There’s a gasping noise, but Valentino shakes his head at his inquisitive look.

It’s exactly as ungainly as the past thirty minutes and thirty hours were, Valentino pulling their cocks out. Takes some shuffling. Marc ends up with his hand on the half-melted candy bar, stumbles over half a dozen curses, and Valentino tugs at wrist to lick it clean before managing to get his underwear down and spitting on his own palm.

His hand is still dry around them both. The callouses there scrape. Marc chokes on a whine, closes his eyes, then forces them open again because he has to watch this.

“Vale,” Marc moans, hips hitching. Valentino’s other hand surges up, grabs his chin tight to force his head back. There’re teeth, his tongue soothing their sting.

Marc jolts, their cocks rubbing together—and God, it’s only everything he wants. After that, they don’t settle into a rhythm as much as they crumble into one. Valentino’s hand hot and tight around them, and his mouth insistent against Marc’s for a kiss, two, ten. The slide gets easier, wetter. There’s the fucking noise it makes, damp, obscene.

And there’s Valentino, looking at him. Softer, maybe, than either of them should risk.

“Are you—wooing me?” Marc asks, halfway to a laugh. He doesn’t stammer. Much.

It’s there, behind his teeth—were you wooing me this whole time? Are you being gentle?

Valentino has the gall to grin, makes his grip a little firmer when Marc tries to pretend to be annoyed. “I am a romantic,” he says, all showmanship that shatters when Marc bucks against him, grinds them together. “Stop that, Christ.”

He doesn’t.

So Valentino clamps down on his nape, wound tight, biting on his throat. There’s zero fucking finesse to any of it, Marc fumbling for air, for the string of his sanity, digging into Valentino’s skinny, sharp shoulders. It’s ugly, too fast. Valentino jerks at the bite of his nails. Marc is so hard his vision that starts to wobble.

Next time, they can get on a bed, they can be sweet—maybe.

Right now, Marc wants to come so much he’s unraveling, drool pooling inside his mouth.

“Good?” Valentino asks, strained. He could make it sound cruel—there was a time when it was the only way he spoke. But it’s plaintive instead. Small.

“Fantastic. Best I’ve ever had.”

God, he tries for a joke, for wryness—it comes out too honest, instead. Marc vows to be ashamed about it later.

Or not at all. Valentino buries whatever he was going to say next in a bite, hard and mean on the swell of his chest. Marc catches a fraction of what his face looks like, shocked, hungry, mouth tight. He comes over his hand, his stomach, shaking with a keening groan.

It’s—Christ. Marc ruts against Valentino and his lax, sloppy grip until he’s twitching and whining with oversensitivity, cock fully soft against his thigh. But those flashes of pain get Valentino back online, have him wrapping his come-streaked fingers properly around Marc.

He doesn’t take that easy, either. Fucks Valentino’s fist, pants heavily. It’s burnt with hot iron in his mind, how Valentino’s expression had turned raw like a bruised nerve ending. Marc chases his own orgasm wildly, babbling—Spanish, Catalan, Italian, whatever. He comes in a kaleidoscopic fritz of color, everything narrowed down to the slack line of Valentino’s mouth.

His bones are loose, liquid. If he tried walking, he thinks his feet would sink in clouds. The minutes tick by around them, a string of flowing, round pearls slipping from his fingers.

Marc blinks—once he feels marginally more human again—and stretches his neck. Smooths his hand over Valentino’s crooked collar, his skinny chest. There’s come on his stomach, drying on a viscous patch over dark gray fabric.

“Your shirt is dirty,” he says, feeling clumsy, feeling golden.

Valentino clicks his tongue. “Ah, who cares.”

“Uhm, okay.” Marc decides against safety, tucks his face into the crook of Valentino’s throat. “It is an ugly shirt anyway.”

There’s laughing, the sound punched out and disbelieving. A hand comes up to cradle the back of his neck. Outside, it’s raining, a soft, gray security blanket over the everything else that they’ll one day be able to say.

[nhl-stories]

I'm Back- Jack Hughes feat. Nico Hischier

Summary: Lux stays with Jack in New Jersey, things aren't going as she expected.

Author’s Note: This is sequel of sorts to this previous work you don't need to read it to get this, but it's a good read if I say so myself. This is a bit of a romance story, but mostly it's an ode to platonic soulmates.

Also fudging the timeline of medical school interviews because this is my world and I can do what I want to fit my needs

Word Count: 5.3k

“Hey loser!”

Lux looks up to see Jack sticking his head out of the passenger window like a dog.

“Hey moron,” she shoves his head back into the car and drags her suitcase to the trunk.

Jack is out of the car and lifting it into the trunk before she has a chance.

“What a gentleman.”

Jack’s bright smile never fails to make her grin back, but she isn’t expecting the almost-tender hug that follows.

“Hi Luxy,” he mumbles into her hair, he sounds so tired, she squeezes a little tighter.

A honk jolts them apart.

“Our driver is a little impatient.”

Lux climbs in the back and wraps her arms around the seat and Luke’s shoulders before kissing his cheek.

“Aww look at my little Lukey all grown up.”

He shoves her back towards her seat.

“I could drive before,” he says petulantly before pulling away from the curb.

“Yeah, but now it’s in a car you bought on your own, because you have a job. Let me be proud I don’t have a little brother of my own,” she giggles as she sees Luke turn pink.

She lets him off the hook, and turns her attention to Jack, “Am I going to meet this new girlfriend while I’m here?”

Lux lifts a leg to kick Jack in the arm, “I should still be mad at you, I can’t believe I had to find out you have a serious girlfriend with the rest of gen pop on a fucking TikTok.”

“Sorry, she’s out of town.”

“How convenient,” Lux rolls her eyes, “now I won’t be able to prove I’m not a threat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve spent our whole friendship proving to girls that we are strictly platonic and there’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“What would they have to be jealous about?”

If it were anyone but Jack the comment might hurt.

“Lots of men actually find me desirable, so a lot of women don’t understand how you don’t see me like that at all. And women can be just as territorial as men.”

“Remember Sam thought you two were dating just because you don’t fucking shut up about Lux.”

“Thank you, Luke, excellent point. And then people see us together and realize that is not the kind of chemistry we share. But without the live experience it’s hard to prove.”

“She’s kind of in a different league than you, she’s definitely not gonna be jealous.”

Lux kicks him a little harder than before.

When they arrive at the apartment, Lux immediately drops her bags and flops on the couch, “This’ll do.”

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“What are we gonna share? First, we have never been two friends-one bed type of friends, second, we just had the jealous girlfriend talk.”

“Then take Luke’s room,” Jack shrugs.

“Hey!” Luke looks up from his phone to protest.

“I’m not gonna take your room. You’re saving me so much money on hotels, I’m more than okay with the couch.”

“Now that it’s settled, get up, we’re going to dinner.”

Jack grabs her hands and tries to pull her up, Lux goes full limp body.

“Do we have to leave?”

“We just planned to meet up with some guys for dinner, we don’t have any food here” Luke adds, already looking antsy to go, probably more than ready for his next meal.

“Fine, can’t let you waste away,” she dramatically gets off the couch.

“Is that what you’re going to wear?” Jack gives her a once over.

“Do your teammates have some kind of dress code?”

She eyes the boys and their casual outfits that wouldn’t be considered much nicer than her travel clothes.

“No, you just look a little… like you were on a plane,” Jack says like it’s diplomatic, not rude.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you in front of your teammates? Cause I can do that with or without changing.”

“Whatever, just– I don’t know fix your ponytail!”

Lux rolls her eyes but takes down her hair and shakes it out, before grabbing a change of clothes just to stop the whining.

“Oh my god guys, I was pretty the whole time! I might be too hot and irresistible for your teammates.” She comes back in tossing her fixed hair over her shoulder.

“And obviously you’d act on that,” Jack tosses her jacket at her.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t fuck one of your teammates? I used to fuck your brother!” Lux shoots Jack incredulous look.

“In fact, I could do both right now, what do you say Lukey?” She winks over at the younger brother.

“Please leave me out of this.”

“Okay, let’s not starve the baby any longer. But reminder, I’m a former WAG, it’s not like I couldn’t get an NHLer if I tried.”

“I’ll start matchmaking then,” Jack wraps an arm around her shoulder and leads her out of the apartment.

The restaurant is a lowkey sushi place. There are only about five Devil’s players, and Lux quickly realizes no other women are gonna be here. She has war flashbacks to the lake house in the summer. 

Lux squeezes herself between Jack and Luke at the table, she wants to have an easy conversation to fall back on.

“So, you’re the famous Lux,” a man with a toothless grin, who Lux learns is Dawson, says from across the table.

“Famous? What have you heard about me?” her stomach twists, probably good things, but Hughes brothers might not be the only ones talking about her.

“With the way he talks about you, I thought Jack was dating you for a while until I learned you were dating Quinn.”

There’s a scuffle under the table, “Oh right, sorry about the break up.”

Lux flushes, “Um- it’s been a while don’t worry about it, I’m not still heartbroken.”

“Well, the other two Hughes brothers love you a lot, always telling stories about you. And Nico said you were really nice.”

“Oh yeah, when you had to introduce your girl best friend to your new best friend,” she pinches Jack’s cheek.

“I took you guys to that place in Greektown,” she perks up a bit, “Is Nico coming tonight?”

Jack eyes her for a second before John Marino butts in, “he bailed, said he was feeling tired.”

The rest of dinner is good, but Lux can feel herself fading fast. And while she’s starting to lean heavily into Jack’s side, he doesn’t seem to get the message.

“You guys want to hear about the time Jack tried to ask out a girl in our chemistry class?”

“Right, you have to get up early, we should go,” Jack is quick to stand.

Luke snickers and doesn’t get to his feet, wants to see where this goes in front of their intrigued teammates.

“After I can talk about when Luke was like 14 or 15 and–“ Luke shoots up and drags Lux up with him.

“Nice to meet you guys, see you later,” Lux calls as they push her out of the restaurant.

:::

She’s hit with the scent of cooking as she comes in the apartment, and takes off her shoes.

“I can finally take this bra off, it’s so uncomfortable but it’s the only one that works with this­– oh. There’s company.”

Lux freezes, one cup of her bra sticking out of her sleeve. Jack is facing the stove, not paying attention.

“Nico’s staying for dinner.”

Nico gives an awkward wave from his spot at the kitchen island with a glass of wine.

“Hi Nico,” she pulls the bra out the rest of the way, “Would have loved a little warning about the company,” then she whips Jack with her bra on her way out, ignoring his protest as she leaves.

She comes back into the kitchen and suddenly feels very exposed in her baggy Lions shirt and old, worn-out short shorts. Her packing hadn’t included thoughts of what to wear in front of men who are basically strangers while hanging around the apartment.

She tries to ignore the heat in her face and confidently take the seat next to Nico, where a new glass of wine is waiting for her.

“Hi Lux, nice to see you again,” he swivels in the barstool, bumping her knee with his.

“You too, even if it didn’t seem like I was before,” she takes a nervous sip of wine.

“Just with the whole bra thing, I try to keep the number of NHLers who’ve seen my nipples to a minimum, it’s probably already too high.”

Nico let’s out a laugh so delightful Lux feels her heart flip. She always thought Nico was cute, but up close and laughing at her jokes, she thinks it’s a bona fide crush now.

Jack scoffs, “You were dared to flash me, so I don’t really count.”

“Okay, so minus Jack, the three is probably enough.”

“Wait, who else saw your nipples?” Jack is less interested in what’s cooking now.

“Quinn, obviously. And Cole at prom; remember the strap on my dress broke, he got and eyeful before he helped cover me up.”

She takes another sip, let Jack’s mind run a bit wild.

“And Lukey walked in on me changing into my swimsuit once.”

The knife Luke is using to chop vegetables clatters onto the cutting board, “You said you’d never tell anyone that!”

“No, I said I wouldn’t tell Quinn that,” and she pretends to look around the room, “and there’s Jack and Nico… no Quinn.”

Luke’s cheeks are burning red and Jack looks like he’s torn between laughing and fuming, which ultimately makes him look a bit constipated.

“You were like 15 and had access to the internet, I doubt my tits were that impactful.”

“Can I throw myself out of a window now?” He looks like he’d prefer to melt into the floor.

Lux stands up and hugs Luke, pinning his arms to his sides, “Don’t worry I won’t let your older brother beat you up over it, though I think you’ve literally grown out of that phase now that you’re taller than him.”

“Now that we know that everyone here but Nico has seen your boobs.”

“We could change that…” Lux chirps at Jack and gets a shove from Luke.

“How was your interview?”

Lux shrugs, “Good, I think… I could not read the interviewer at all.”

“I’m sure you crushed it,” Jack gives her a noogie.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, but it’s one of the most competitive med schools in America, so I’m not keeping my hopes up too much.”

Before the pair can continue arguing about how smart or not smart Lux is, Nico butts in.

“You’re interviewing for medical schools, right? Where at?

“Today was Columbia, I have Cornell tomorrow, and NYU Friday.”

“All just a train ride away,” Jack says as he starts to move them towards the dining table.

“And I haven’t decided if that’s a pro or con yet,” Lux smirks, before taking a seat.

“So, are you coming to both games?” Nico starts, clearly a ploy to stop the bickering before it really starts, already reading the duo’s antics.

“Of course, she’s coming,” Jack jumps in continues to cut off any protest, “you’ve never seen me play a home game and you’ve never even seen Luke play in the big leagues live!”

“But we agreed one game, two in one week will ruin my whole yearly quota.”

“You’re not a hockey fan?”

“That’s an understatement,” Luke laughs.

“Years with the Hughes family, then becoming a WAG, and we still couldn’t convert her,” Jack says wistfully.

“Maybe The Rock will change your mind,” Nico says thoughtfully.

Lux shrugs, she doesn’t want to rain on his parade, “Who are you playing? Just so I can make sure I don’t get a Zegras jumpscare.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“I don’t think his relationship status would change how much he enjoys annoying me.”

“We’re not playing the Ducks, plus he’s out with a broken ankle anyway, I don’t think he’s traveling,” Jack adds, his tone hinting that there’s more on that subject he wants to discuss.

“Okay I can tell you’re dying to talk shop, so go ahead,” she’s surprised they let it go on this long.

“We were actually going to talk about the Canucks right before you got here,” Luke say with a little apprehension, always thinking of Lux’s feelings.

“How is Captain Q doing? They’re playing shockingly well, right?”

“I thought you didn’t like hockey?” Jack mocks.

“Our moms talk, I follow hockey players on socials, information gets disseminated.”

Jack makes a face, clearly unsure if that last word means what he thinks it does.

“The Canucks pretty much guaranteed to make it to the playoffs,” Luke probably knows disseminated doesn’t have anything to do with semen.

“Damn, I missed my chance to get a WAG jacket.”

Then the boys are off on tangents about trades and special teams and injuries. Lux silently enjoys the familiar chatter, letting it wash over her like a warm hug. Though she isn’t absorbing any of the information.

 She barely notices when the conversation turns to her while they start to clear the table.

“If you don’t want to sleep on the couch again, Nico has a spare bedroom.” Jack says as if he’s had to repeat himself.

“Excuse me?”

“He lives just upstairs, and has a guest room.”

“I’m staying here to spend time with you, why would I want to stay at some strange guy’s apartment? No offense, Nico.”

“No pressure, if you change your mind the offer is open,” Nico has such a kind smile Lux almost ask if she can stay in his bed.

“Thank you, that’s very nice of you, but I think I’ll stay here.”

Nico nods and says good night before leaving. Lux counts to five after the door shuts behind him.

“What the fuck was that?” Lux glares at Jack.

Jack isn’t quite sure how to respond.

“Why are you trying to pawn me off?”

He shrugs, “I’m not, but he does have a spare room. And it’s nicer to sleep on a bed. And if you happen to hit it off, that’s cool you’ll have another friend when you move here.”

Luke scoffs and retreats to his room, not wanting to get implicated in any scheme.

“So, you have ulterior motives?”

“That makes it sound like my motives are bad, friends are a bad thing now?”

“Friendship isn’t bad, but this feels like you know something I don’t and that makes me very uneasy.”

“I’ve never known something you don’t,” he gives a cheeky smile and Lux rolls her eyes.

He puts the last of the plates in the dishwasher.

“I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed, night Luxxy,” he ruffles her hair as he walks by.

Then she’s alone.

At 9 PM.

Not shooting the shit with her bestie.

Maybe she should have stayed with Nico.

:::

The Cornell interview is a dream. Lux had gone to other interviews and liked a few, but this was different. She was vibing with the interviewer. Everything she learned about the school she loved.

Everything just felt right. 

She was floating on air as she walked the streets toward Central Park. The pizza she stopped for tasted better… although that might have been a New York thing and not a feeling good in the moment thing.

She texts Jack a good luck for the game but doesn’t get a response, she assumes he’s napping or in the zone or something. It’s not a part of their usual texting unless she somehow knows there’s a specifically important game; like when he plays Quinn or the stadium series a few weeks ago.

Lux meets up with a friend from college, who takes her out for drinks then dinner then more drinks. She’s a little tipsy when she gets on the train to Jack’s apartment, insisting to her friend that she doesn’t want to sleep on a futon in her studio apartment.

Halfway there she realizes she should check the score before she gets back. She may not care about hockey but she cares about her friend’s feelings and knowing what kind of mood he’ll be in can only help.

They lost.

Quinn would get quiet and introspective when he lost a game, so it was always easy for Lux. Not only were they not in the same city, but usually he didn’t want to talk. Jack usually got grumpy and wanted to complain. So not the exact environment she was used to or really wanted to be in.

She gets back before the boys somehow. She’s not exactly sure how.

So, she gets ready for bed and turns on the TV, of course it’s already on some channel playing sports highlights. Lux flips around to find something more mindless when they boys come home.

Luke plops down on the couch, suit jacket discarded immediately. Jack sort of awkwardly stands behind the couch, staring at the TV where Lux stopped on a game show.

When neither of them speaks up, Lux fills in the silence.

“Sorry about the loss, but a goal and an assist, that’s pretty cool,” she looks up to Jack with a sad smile, hoping she’s at least a little comforting.

“Mmmhmm,” Jack hums.

She tries a new tactic, “Cornell went well.”

“Cool.”

“I liked it, a lot.” She emphasizes.

“Cool.”

“How about we order pizza, watch bad TV, and not talk then?”

“I’ll pass,” Jack finally moves, heading to his room and shutting the door behind him.

She looks over to Luke, “He’s being weird with me, right?”

“Kind of,” Luke avoids eye contact, his tell when he’s trying protect his brothers in some way.

“We haven’t hung out, just the two of us since I got here. Hell, we haven’t even done a Lux and the Hughes bros night. I want to know if I did something wrong.”

“It’s not you, he was really excited you were coming. Wouldn’t shut up about everything he wanted to show so you’d fall in love with here like he has.”

Lux smirks at that.

“I think the season has been rough for him, he’s been taking it out on himself a little.”

She scoots down the couch and pulls Luke into her side with a hug.

“And how are you doing?” She gives him a squeeze, her instinct to big sister Luke coming out.

“It’s my first full season, I’m just happy to be playing. And Jack’s been taking good care of me.”

“What an insane sentence, but glad you have each other here.”

“And I heard talk of pizza,” he hugs Lux back.

“You’re the local, tell me where to order from,” she ruffles his hair.

:::

Lux wakes up early despite her late night of TV and pizza. She clears off the table before heading towards Jack’s room.

She knocks gently, before just walking in. Though she hovers near the entryway.

“What’s wrong with us?”

Jack’s lying in bed looking at his phone, double chin on full display. Lux would normally make fun of him, or take a picture for her own blackmailing purposes, but now’s not the time.

“What do you mean?” He doesn’t look away from his texting or whatever he’s doing.

Lux crawls into the bed and lays on her side facing him.

“I thought we weren’t ‘share a bed’ friends?”

She rolls her eyes, snatches his phone and throws it to the foot of the bed. It gets lost somewhere in the crumpled duvet.

“When you’ve been using your brother and teammates as a buffer to not be alone with me, I’ll bend our friendship rules.”

“Okay we’re alone, what’s wrong with me?”

“It’s not just a you thing… it’s an us thing.”

Jack finally turns his head to really look at Lux.

“We haven’t talked at all since Christmas, and even then, it was like for 15 minutes between family obligations. And we’re barely texting.”

Lux hates her body for betraying her, tears starting to well up even if she’s more frustrated than sad.

“It feels like right before Quinn broke up with me.”

That gets Jack to sit up, confused, a little angry.

“I’m not fucking breaking up with you.”

“Good, I don’t think I could survive a second Hughes break up.”

Jack sighs, “Just this year has fucking sucked for me, we’re not doing as well– I’m not doing as well as I thought. And you’re in your senior year and applying to med schools, I didn’t want to add my own stress to you.”

“Are you still hurt?”

“Kind of, but we’re like still sort of in the race for a playoff spot and if I can just get us in…”

Lux knows to bite her tongue when it comes to injury management. They’ll play through the pain even if it’s not necessarily the best for themselves, if there’s a chance it’s best for the team.

“And on top of that you get a girlfriend, a meet your parents kind of girlfriend.”

“I guess I’m not over you and Quinn breaking up!”

Lux swallows, tries to put together a coherent thought.

“I know you had a crush on Quinn forever, and I was happy for you guys, but you were my friend first and he kind of ruined that. And now I feel like I have to be careful when it comes to talking about him, or relationships, or even just making fun of you.”

He finally turns onto his side.

“And most importantly I want to talk to you about how Quinn’s girlfriend is so nice it’s kind of annoying.”

“Oh my god, she’s too nice! Do you know she follows me on Instagram? We met like that one time at the lake and she comments on all my pictures about how pretty I am. She knows I’m his ex, right?”

“Oh yeah, it was a whole weird thing when we all played each other the first time. Quinn apparently hadn’t told her explicitly and we made some joke or something and then she just was like ‘oh she’s so nice and pretty, no wonder you liked her.’”

Lux can’t help but laugh.

“I mean maybe I couldn’t handle that like right after the break up, but I was so lost after. I didn’t know how to be a college student without a long-distance boyfriend and still be a good student or friend and whatever, and I was such a bitch at the end of our relationship I thought you wouldn’t be on my side, which you shouldn’t”

“What?”

“We were already having problems, but I purposely made them worse. Like, while I was dodging all his calls, you came to play in Chicago and I made sure that we took a picture together because I knew you’d send it to the family group chat and he’d see I was just living my life.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know! I can’t believe he never told you that. He really is like the best brother.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know, I think I wanted a break but I didn’t know how to ask for one, so I ruined it. And sometimes I think if we took a break maybe we’d get back together again, but also, I just don’t think we were meant for long term.”

She reaches across to grab Jack’s hand, “But us… this shit is forever. We have almost nothing in common and you’re still the first person I want to call with big news or if I need advice, which is crazy cause you’re one of the dumbest people I know.”

Jack laughs, it’s a little wet. They have to ignore it because they love each other but it’s not emotional like this.

“Okay, so I’ll still be your future kids cool Uncle Jack? Even if we’re not blood related?”

“Of course.”

“Okay enough of this emotional stuff, it’s very gross.”

“But what if we kissed right now,” Lux wiggles her eyebrows while trying to keep a straight face.

Jack shoves her hard enough she teeters dangerously on the edge of the bed, as she howls with laughter.

“Oka, now tell me why you’re trying to set me up with Nico?”

“He’s brunette with a lot body hair but almost none on his chest, that’s your type.”

“Oh my god! Shut up, that is not my type,” Lux covers her face, masking her laughs and her embarrassment.

“Palmer from high school was a fucking wolf man.”

“Okay, well recent studies show that’s not my type.”

Jack gags.

“Nico may also sort of be seeing this woman who’s massive bitch to him. And I like him and I like you, so maybe if you hit it off… it would be good for everyone. And make you want to move here.”

“I’m not making life altering decisions based on boys… even for cute Swiss boys or platonic soulmates.”

The door opens suddenly, “We’re gonna be late for morning skate, dude.”

“What if we had been having sex, dude?” Lux says while stretching out on the bed.

“Then the world would be ending, so it wouldn’t really matter,” he rolls his eyes, “I’m pulling out of the garage in 10 minutes with or without you.

“Want to go shopping later?” Jack asks Lux as he gets out of bed

“Are you paying?”

He scoffs, “Sure.”

“Then I’m in. Have fun at morning skate, I’m gonna nap in your bed.”

:::

Things snap back into place almost immediately, like it was more effort pushing each other away than just letting themselves get pulled into each other’s orbit.

And all feels right in the world again.

Thursday is another game day; Lux is reading on the boys’ balcony while they nap. She jolts when the sliding door opens.

“Sorry to scare you,” Nico in a suit sits down across from her, “they still napping?”

“Yes? I don’t know their routines. Why are you here?”

“We’re carpooling.”

They sit quietly for a bit, before Lux finally puts her book down.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to a game, is this appropriate attire?” She stands up and does a goofy little spin.

“What are you doing?” Jack asks from the doorway, a playful smirk on his face like he’s getting away with something.

“I’m asking if I’m dressed alright, since I’m sitting in your girlfriend’s spot with all the WAGs.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t force her to wear your jersey,” Nico laughs, “but you look nice, won’t even have to change when we go out after the win.”

“Oooh you’re ready to put on a show for me?”

“You could use some make up though,” Jack adds.

Lux just flips him off.

A sleepy looking Luke comes to the door, “Don’t let Lukey drive, he looks like an accident ready to happen.”

“Try to have fun tonight,” Jack hugs Lux.

Normally she’d say something snarky, like ‘try to win then.’ But after their heart to heart, that feels like a twist of the knife.

“I’ll try to be the best good luck charm.”

Lux gets to her seat five minutes into the first period in an attempt to avoid any awkward introductions. Not that she’s against meeting new people, but without social butterfly Jack by her side, she relapses into her shyer ways.

Still, the group tries to include her, shocked she hasn’t seen Jack play in Jersey and forcing her to take a picture where the mascot is holding her bridal style.

She has a couple drinks, cheers when Jack gets an assist, and pretends she doesn’t cheer louder when Nico gets an assist on the game winning goal.

She won’t admit it, but it’s the most fun she’s had at a hockey game, maybe ever.

The women lead her down to the family room while they discuss where they want to go out. Lux is buzzing with adrenaline she was not expecting, ready to follow everyone for a night out with no complaint.

Luke and Jack come out of the locker room simultaneously. Lux is about to jump on Jack when she remembers what he said about his shoulder, so she jumps on Luke’s back instead.

“Lukey, you were so good out there,” she squeezes him tight and ruffles Jack’s hair while she has the height advantage.

“I was -1,” he starts to let her go so she slides off his back.

“I don’t know what that means, so it can’t be that important.”

She gives Luke another hug then turns her attention to Jack, who wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“Guess you were a good luck charm.”

“And yet, you couldn’t score a goal for me.”

“Gotta keep you wanting more.”

She sticks her tongue out at him.

“I heard there were talks of going out? I have an interview tomorrow so the sooner that starts the better.”

They end up at a trendy bar on the other side of the river with about half the team and their significant others. She lets Jack talk her into taking a shot about two steps into the establishment.

She laughs, she dances, she drinks a bit too much. Her head starts to spin and she makes her way to the patio, the chilled air feels good and clears her vision.

A cold glass of water brushes against her arm.

“You probably should hydrate.”

“Thanks,” she smiles up at Nico.

“Did you have fun tonight? At the game?”

“Yeah, but don’t tell Jack it’ll go to his head.”

“Might be a con if you end up picking Cornell, he’ll make you come watch all the time.”

“I think med school is a good excuse to miss out.”

Nico shrugs, “I’d miss my good luck charm.”

The early spring air is chilly, but a gust of warm air comes over Lux. ‘This is flirting. Nico is flirting with me,’ rings in her head while she struggles to be charming, or smooth in response.

Of course, that’s when the clock strikes midnight and she turns back into a pumpkin, or really Jack interrupts the moment.

“Luxxy, time to leave! I won’t be the reason you’re late or hungover for your interview.” He yells from the doorway of the bar, for maximum embarrassment.

Lux close her eyes and lets out a sigh. Then lets a final burst of liquid confidence bubble up to the surface.

“I might not see you before I leave, so let me give you my phone number,” she holds out her hand for his phone, which he unlocks and hands over.

“Partially, because seeing this happen will make Jack lose his mind. And it would be nice to have another friend if I move out here.”

Nico is kind of dumbstruck as he nods along, “Friends are nice.”

“Especially cute friends,” she holds back a grin and gives him a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He turns an adorable shade of pink.

“What was that?” Jack says as she walks by taking him in tow.

“What? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

:::

The last interview goes fine. Not great, but at least she isn’t hungover for it.

Her flight out is at an ungodly time the next morning, so she insists on an early bedtime from her chauffeurs.

Which is how she ends up sitting alongside the river, brown bagging beers with the Hughes brothers, watching the sun set.

“So, am I going to meet the new girlfriend at the lake this summer?”

“You’re actually coming to the lake house this summer?”

“If I can embarrass you in front of your new girlfriend? Absolutely.”

“I’m giving your room to Trevor,” beer sloshes out of his can when he elbows her.

“C’mon, this might actually be my last summer at the lake. I’m becoming a doctor; I think I’ll be busy. Or maybe I’ll meet someone.”

“Someone who will whisk you off to Switzerland?” Jack wiggles his eyebrows and Luke make smooching sounds.

“Anything is possible,” she raises her beer and drinks to that.

[forbidding-souda]

I can’t even remember if I’ve requested this before and you’ve already written it or not. But uh. Korekiyo spanking S/O? Pretty please? Just anything with that, go wild lol

(Assuming nsfw requests are open. Otherwise just ignore this)

Korekiyo Shinguuji spanking his S/O (NSFW)

4 you anon <3 this took me about 5 hours to write becaues i started watching hamilton roblox and got distracted. this might be too short bc i've actually never experienced spanking like this at all so this is all through the noggin and quora LMFAO WAIT YOU GUYS DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW OFTEN I USE QUORA AS MEANS OF GAINING INFO FOR SOME FICS LMFAOOOOO. here's a gundham spanking one i wrote before that perfectly explains this processs LOL

ya'll oh my god i am so sick rn as if classes don't start in two days bruh fucking free me im gonna slam my head through a wall bruh i get sick so easily it's not even funny i stole some of my roommates benedryl like i'm coughing so hard.

and all of these sprites i've been using this week are copy and pasted from old posts so i def need to remake them with hair color and piercing updates bc helppp LMFAO i'll do that eventually

-Mod Souda

❤ He is the happiest man on the planet whenever it comes to giving you the sexual pleasure you need. He is delighted to be able to serve you.

❤ His long nails will offer soothing yet ticklish caresses to the back of your naked thighs. Your ass is such a tender part of your body, he loves to touch it, to grope it and when he does, he presses his lips to the pulse of your neck to feel how fast your heartbeat goes.

❤ He's always too excited to undress you. Even your shirt will still be on.

❤ He prefers using his hands, loving the physical contact.

❤ He'll have you folded over his lap, or having your front pressed against a wall on your tippy toes. No matter the position, every time you squirm you'll be able to feel his thick erection.

❤ "My, my." He'll coo at each of your desperate gasps.

❤ In between each spank is the sharp tingle that never seems to relent.

❤ For some real visualization:

❤ You had your knees to the floor and your chest against the couch. Your wrists were constructed with his favorite red rope, the color looked so pretty against you. One of his hands held you down from between your shoulder blades while the other went back and forth compacting against your ass.

❤ Your underwear wasn't even fully off and neither was your pants. They were pulled down to just below the fold of your cheeks.

❤ He was too impatient to strip you.

❤ The loud smack made you cry out in pain, especially when his large hand his the sensitive curves, the stinging almost unbearable.

❤ Your muscles kept clenching, kept tensing, and when he saw the shake of your glutes, his spanks would go harder.

❤ Relentless, back and forth, back and forth, giving you no space to even breathe.

❤ Sometimes he'll let you lay across his lap, your back arched and thighs apart, having you wearing nothing but your socks as he punishes you with rough smacks. From his angle he can perfectly capture both cheeks at the same time, giving your body both a cold shock and an aroused hotness. His fingers will be spread, covering ass much of your skin as he can.

❤ "How gorgeous you are," he'll whisper, more at you than him. You can hear how out of breath he is, desperate to be inside of you. "How beautiful, how perfect."

[static-radio-ao3]

@jegulus-microfic // june 23 // prompt: brain // words: 823 // part 1 + part 2

"You have to get up," Regulus says. He tugs at James’ arm, trying to get him into an upright position. Standing isn’t quite possible, the low roof of the cave forcing them to keep close to the ground. It smells damp and musty, the way the earth tends to after rain.

James’ response is a petulant, "No."

"That was not a question." Regulus can’t help but roll his eyes. He tugs at James again and either Regulus is stronger than he thought or James is weaker, but this time, he goes.

With his back resting against the interior wall of the cave, he can look at Regulus properly.

"Well, can you phrase it as one?" He asks, head tilted to the side in consideration.

“James, as your prince, I command you to—”

“No, I will slow you down any more than I already have.”

“You cannot defy a direct order, your knightly duties—”

“Fuck my knightly duties. My knightly duties bind me to the crown. I don’t see a crown here.” James gestures vaguely at the cave, eyes wandering around the small space before settling on Regulus again. “I only see you.”

Regulus crosses his arms in front of his chest, unconvinced. “For all intents and purposes, I am the crown.”

The words settle heavily in James’ stomach, he almost feels sick with it. He can tell that Regulus means it. Believes it.

“Regulus... You are so much more than that...” And James wants to elaborate, but the words catch in his throat. He isn’t sure he has the words to describe it. The way Regulus can command a room as soon as he enters it. The way he outshines all the stars in the night sky. The way he cares.

The queen had called his a bleeding heart and James thinks he would throw himself on top of his sword to protect it.

James wants to say all this and more, but he says nothing. He thinks Regulus might be able to see it in his eyes because he doesn't respond.

He merely shifts so he can settle himself on James’ things and grabs a fistful of James' tunic, tattered and torn as it is. He is careful to avoid the wound on James’ side.

Regulus' eyes have already fluttered shut but James doesn’t dare to breathe, doesn’t dare to disrupt this moment. He wants to memorize it, just in case. Memorize the feel of Regulus on his lap, the warmth of his body and the smattering of moles on his face. Track the constellations they make up.

His dark lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones. James always found them so regal. He reaches out to touch, a finger tracing the faint scar there, right under his eye. The skin is grimy.

Regulus huff, impatient, before towing James in even further. James has not choice but to close his eyes, too.

He presses his lips against Regulus', soft and plush. After a heartbeat, maybe two, Regulus' lips part under his own and really, James can't quite string together a coherent thought.

There is only Regulus Regulus Regulus where his brain should be, static between his ears. His hands find their way into Regulus' hair. It is indeed as soft and silky has had imagined. He tugs on it, just because, just to make sure this is real. The sound Regulus makes in response has the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile.

“Shut up,” Regulus grounds out, but the words lose some of their impact because they are essentially spoken into James’ mouth.

“Didn’t say anything,” James murmurs in response. He pulls back, just the slightest bit. A blush sits high on Regulus’ cheeks, the tips of his ears that lovely shade of red that James always misses as soon as it’s gone.

“Either kiss me again or get up. We need to leave soon if we want to get to the clearing before sundown.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“And I am not leaving you.”

“I’ll only slow you down.”

“If you think I would leave you in this cave to die—” But Regulus can’t seem to finish his sentence. He screws his eyes shut, expression pained, and James wishes he could go back to a few moments ago, when Regulus’ eyes had fluttered shut so sweetly. When he opens them again, they are determined, the grey as unyielding as iron. “If you die, I will kill you myself.”

And perhaps James is selfish, but he thinks that would be his preferred way to go.

He sighs, defeated, because he knows there is no convincing Regulus once he’s made up his mind. “I suppose I should fulfill my knightly duties…” James says.

Regulus hums, a soft thing, low in his throat. “I suppose so. And I think your knightly duties now also involve kissing me, so you really want to be thorough.”

[anakinsbunniee]

You can never leave.

Ft: Anakin Skywalker x female reader

WARNINGS: Manipulation and Emotional Abuse | Physical Violence | verbal abuse | Explicit language | Toxic Relationship | Possessive/Manipulative!Anakin | No use of Y/N

In the dimly lit apartment, you sat nervously on Anakin's bed, watching him engrossed in his Jedi paperwork. The invitation from your friend Padmé to visit Naboo lingered in your mind, but there was a problem – you hadn't asked Anakin yet.

„Anakinnn..” you say, dragging the 'N' a little longer than you actually intended to.

"Yeah...?" Anakin replied, not bothering to take his eyes off the documents.

"I was considering going to Naboo with Padmé. Would you..have anything against that?" you asked, your words hanging in the air.

Anakin immediately looked up, his soft expression shifting to a scowl. "Of course, I'd have something against that. Why would you want to leave?"

"As I mentioned, Padmé wanted to visit her home planet, and..and she asked me to come along," you explained quietly.

"Tell her you're busy and can't go," Anakin orders, returning to his paperwork.

"But- I already told her yes, and I really want to go. It's getting boring just sitting in your apartment all day," you huff and cross your arms, not letting go of the subject

You're clearly too focused on your thoughts to notice Anakin putting his documents back in their rightful folders and standing up, walking to the foot of the bed.

"If you want to leave me, just say that," he murmurs, his tone calculated to instill guilt. He also crosses his arms while his eyes narrow as he takes a deep breath.

"I didn't say that, Anakin! That's what you heard. I just want to go outside a little. I feel like I'm rotting inside here," you explained, frustration evident.

"Oh, you're not enjoying it here? You don't like the home I decorated for you, the home where I cover all the bills so you can live comfortably? Well, by all means, go out and have a great time with your friend, but don't even think about returning." he replies sternly, painting your innocent desire to spend time with friends as a betrayal

"Huh? Ani, what are you saying? Of course, I appreciate you decorating and financing our home, but I just want to go out a bit! and uhm..another friend of mine mentioned that you might be overreacting and- suggested that you should stop controlling me," you mumble while still looking up at him.

Anakin, however, grew angrier, wanting to know which friend of yours had suggested this. „Which friend? Padmé? Or that blonde..what's her name again, uhh..Lera?”

‘Fuck! Why did I mention that? I can't tell him it's a guy...’ you mentally curse yourself in almost every language for saying something about that friend. You can't possibly say it was Padmé or Lera..what if he asks them and they say no?

„Well? Who was it?” he asks again impatiently, clearly wanting an answer. If you wouldn't have focused on his facial expression, you barely would have noticed his jaw clenching and his eyes darkening.

„It was..It was...-” you stop talking to take a deep breath, here goes nothing. „Crane..”

Suddenly Anakin grabs your arm, dragging you off the bed and making you stand in front of him. „Crane...? Crane?! Why are you friends with that disappointment of a Jedi?! Also, didn't I tell you no guy friends?”

„Yes, but..I met Crane way before I met you..he's just like a big brother to me...”

This answer makes him livid. „Give me your phone,” he says in a dangerous low voice, and you bet that if you wouldn't give it to him right now, he would freak out. So you obviously give it to him.

As soon as he has your phone in his hand, he throws it against the wall, making it shatter into tiny and also larger pieces which makes you squeal and jump away out of shock.

„Anakin-! What the fuck?! Why would you destroy my phone! How am I supposed to message my friend-”

Before you can finish your sentence, he suddenly slaps you hard across the face, his anger getting the better of him. Your cheek is pulsating, and your eyes are burning from the tears that you try to not let fall.

„Stop crying. I barely touched you,” he replies, taking a step back from you. ”Also, you not being able to contact your friends was the whole point of me destroying the phone. Maker, how fucking dumb are you..”

Tears spill over and flow down your face like a river escaping a dam. You feel your lip trembling and your body slightly shaking at his mean actions and words.

He bends down to your eye level, his raised voice echoing uncomfortably loud in your ears. „Oh, of course, you're crying now! It's always about you, you, you..never about me! Do you even consider how I feel right now? How I might feel about my love wanting to leave me to go to another planet without me?!”

You consider responding but decide against it, fearing it might escalate further.

„And Crane! You think you can be friends with him? He just wants to tear us apart with his stupid comments, and you're too blind to see it. You're a stupid fucking whore who doesn't give a shit about her dear boyfriend, who cares so much for her.”

As he storms towards his closet, grabbing his coat, you recognize his familiar game. He gets angry, threatens to leave, and then you always come crawling back to him.

„You're acting like a bitch, and I'm sick of it. If you can't appreciate what I risk for you, we can't be together. Go on that trip with Padmé or do the stars know what”

"Don't leave me, Ani," you sob, watching him grip the door handle, ready to abandon you over a trivial argument.

"Will you stay here? Be good and stay in this apartment? Will you only leave it when I allow you to? and will you ignore your friends who are trying to tear us apart?" he asks suddenly, his voice unintentionally rises in anger the more questions he asks.

You're torn. You love Anakin, but ignoring your friends for him? Is that even acceptable? Conflicting thoughts flood your mind, tears streaming down your face.

“o-okay...I-I’ll do that...” as soon as you answer, Anakin's arms wrap around you with comforting strength, creating a secure embrace that feels both protective and tender. The firm yet gentle hold conveys a sense of warmth and reassurance, leaving you enveloped in the comforting embrace of his muscular presence.

„Shh baby..it's for the better, mhm? Don't you think I'm right? Those friends of yours are bad people. Trying to separate you and me..i'm never going to let that happen.” he asserts, skillfully molding your perception of reality. It's a subtle, toxic dance where he positions himself as the protector while holding your head to his chest to provide a false sense of comfort as you weep into it.

In his embrace, you can't shake the lingering doubt. As his words echo in your mind, you question if surrendering your friendships is truly worth the illusion of security. Deep down, a conflict brews between the love you feel for Anakin and the nagging feeling that sacrificing your connections might cost you more than you realize.

[etfrin]

Explore

Warning - NSFW (cunnilingus, f. receiving)

virgin!Ethan Landry x virgin!reader

You have no idea how did you end up here. One thing led to another and now you laid down on the bed of Ethan Landry. Bare from below, your legs spread open for his view.

His eyes were locked down on your pussy. His intense stare making you a bit conscious and blush at the same time.

You licked your dried lips, your pussy clenching around nothing, drooling arousal. You whispered, "Could you stop staring? It's getting awkward..."

Ethan's head snaps up to meet your eyes. He gives an sheepish smile, "Sorry.. you're just so- so pretty."

You felt your blush deepen from his words. "Could you just... touch me?" You couldn't deny you were getting impatient, wanting to get intimate for the first time in your life.

Ethan gave a nod, before crawling between your thighs. *I want you to taste you," he mumbled, his breath hitting your clit, making you shiver. "Can I?" He asked, his eyes wide. He looked so innocent, it was impossible to believe he wanted to eat you out.

You give him a nod. Ethan buries himself between your legs, his hands on your thighs to keep you spread. The first lick of his tongue was hesitant but, oh, it had you seeing stars. It was your first time after all, sensitivity was normal.

You let out a gasp from his kitten licks. "Ethan," you whine, "Stop being shy- just- oh- just fucking feast on me." Your words trigger something in him. His licks against your fold getting longer, he makes sure his tongue licks your cunt from bottom to top.

He notices your clit. He flicks it with his tongue, taking note of your thighs tensing and the sharp intake of breath. He lick your clit again before taking into his mouth to suck it.

The suction of his mouth getting stronger by the second, making you moan out loud. Your legs trying to close him in. Your hands grip his hair, tugging hard. He wasn't sure if you were trying to push him away or not. He simply sucked harder, making you moan so loudly it was rather shocking.

"Fuck, fuck," You curse, your fingers pulling at his locks, "Too much, Ethan! Ah! Fuck, fuck! Ethan!"

His name sounded so pretty from your mouth. He pops off your clit, licking it again before moving down to your pussy that was so much wet than before. He swallows down at the sight, feeling his throat being dry.

He dives in this time. No hesitation in his actions, he was making out with your cunt without a care about how filthy, pathetic or sloppy it was. It certainly had you going, judging by the fact, that you were tugging at his hair so desperately trying to go over the edge.

When you notice him grinding down the bed, trying to get some relief for himself. The sight of it was so hot for you. You had a man dry humping on the bed just from eating you out.

Your grip on his hair goes tighter. "Shi- shit Ethan, I am gonna-" before you could even finish your sentence you felt yourself cum for the first time. Ethan let's out a groan himself, cumming into his pants, absolutely fucking drunk on your pussy.

His eyes flicker to yours. He smirks at you, "You can give me another one, right? You taste so good, I doubt once is enough."

[guiltyasdave]

just think of the fun things we could do

a little extra from the dress series universe, takes place before the main story

paring: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: The plot brain isn’t braining, but the horny brain certainly is. I wrote this on my phone in one night and read it over once, don’t judge it too hard.

word count: ~1.2k

summary: “That wasn’t a good girl thing to do though. Sending me that fucking picture when you know damn well where I am right now.” “I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper and hear him scoff. “No, you’re not.”

warnings/tags: explicit smut (18+ only!), able-bodied reader, phone sex, praise kink, degradation kink, sir kink, masturbation (m & f), dirty talk, Dave being a menace as usual, dom/sub dynamics, idiots in love, a tiny bit of fluff

dividers by @/saradika <3

find my full masterlist here!

Desperate, are we?

Your phone lights up on the bedside table beside you, illuminating your dark bedroom. You grab for it quicker than you’d like to admit, your eyes squinting to adjust to the harsh glow of the display.

You had been trying to go to sleep, trying to accept that he wasn’t going to reply to the photo that you had sent him earlier. The photo of your own reflection in your bedroom mirror, wearing nothing but the lingerie that you had bought today while picturing him tearing it off your body.

You had debated if you could to send it to him, but had ultimately decided that Dave wasn’t someone who left his phone lying around and that it should be safe. He had never said that you weren’t allowed to text him, even though he was usually the one to initiate contact first.

When he didn’t reply, you reasoned with yourself that he was probably just busy, that it wasn’t a rejection. But you missed him, you had been missing him since he kissed you goodbye the day before and left your apartment to return to his real life. You wished that you didn’t, that you couldn’t still feel the whisper of his rough touch on your hips, where bruises were forming now, and the press of his lips against yours before he muttered “be good” and pulled your apartment door closed behind him.

But you do miss him and you can still feel him, which had you tossing and turning in your bed and checking your phone far too often, as if you’d somehow missed a notification.

Until now. You stare at the tiny letters on your screen, already biting your lip in nervous anticipation, when another text comes through.

Are you still up?

You hastily type back a Yes, not sure what to expect, when your phone starts ringing in your hand. “Hey,” you breathe, after quickly accepting the call.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

The sound of his deep voice, even through the phone’s speaker, fills you with want immediately.

“Did you touch yourself?”

He skips all pleasantries, his tone stern and in control, just how you know him. Just how you like him.

“No, I was- I was waiting for you.”

“Good girl,” he coos and the rumble of his voice goes straight to your pussy, already aching for him. “That wasn’t a good girl thing to do though. Sending me that fucking picture when you know damn well where I am right now.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper and hear him scoff.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you admit and his responding chuckle makes you smile.

“So what did you want, huh? I fucked you all weekend and that insatiable pussy still can’t get enough?” The tone in his voice makes you shudder; this is more than you had hoped for when sending him that photo. Your fingertips slide under your sleep shirt on their own accord and you stay silent for a moment too long. Dave clicks his tongue impatiently.

“I expect an answer when I’m talking to you. It’s been one day and you’ve already forgotten all your manners, it seems like.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. Two minutes of talking to him and you already feel like you’re melting.

“I wanted to show you. I-I bought this today, thinking about you. Just wanted you to see.”

Dave groans softly and you feel yourself clenching around nothing at the sound. “You did? Looking like a good little slut, and all just for me, isn’t that right doll?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe and he clicks his tongue again. “Say it.”

You simultaneously love and hate when he does this and you squirm the way you always do, but the will to please him wins out, the way it always does. Your quiet “I wanted to look like a slut for you,” makes him chuckle again and you feel the heat of embarrassment creep up your cheeks.

“I know you did. The next time I see you, you’re gonna wear that while I fuck that greedy pussy until you can’t walk right for days, how’s that sound? Maybe then you’ll be satisfied.” You rub your thighs together at his words, smearing the wetness between your legs across your skin and a whine slips from your throat.

“Please,” you whimper. You fingers are edging closer to where you’re dripping, desperate for just a small touch, “Sir, can I please…”

You can hear Dave’s grin through the speaker. “You want to play with yourself? Want to come?”

You hear the rustling of sheets on his side as you breathe out a “Yes, please sir”, desperate for his permission.

It’s silent for a moment like he’s contemplating. “Okay, fine. One finger, nice and slow, sweetheart.” You whine again, your pointer finger dipping down between your folds, swirling through the slick there and moving up to your clit to circle it slowly.

You’re already so worked up that the simple touch makes you gasp, which earns you another groan from Dave. “Always so fucking wet,” he growls, “so eager for everything I give you, so fucking easy… Fuck yourself with it, go on.”

You obediently thrust your finger inside of your slick heat, but it’s not enough, not when you’re used to the way he’s touching you. “I need more, please,” you plead with him, noting how wrecked you already sound.

“Two then, but that’s enough you greedy little thing. You come like this or not at all, are we clear?” he tells you sternly.

You try to replicate the way Dave fingers you, the rough touch of his thick fingers, the way he fills you up. You curl your fingers, but you can’t reach those spots so deep inside of you the way he does, another desperate whine escaping you.

You’re so close but can’t get all the way there, when his own breaths grow louder, mixed with deep groans, and the thought that he’s touching himself to the sounds that you’re making, has probably been doing that the entire time, is enough to finally bring you to the edge.

“Can I come, please sir?” you pant, your thumb rubbing over your clit in quick circles, imagining his more calloused fingertips.

He leaves you dangling for a few more seconds before he roughly commands, “Come for me. Right now.”

You let go, a loud moan filling your dark bedroom as your walls spasm around empty air, more wetness seeping out of you and your body shuddering as you come down from your high.

Judging from his panting breaths, he came right along with you and you’re hit with another wave of longing for him, to be close to him. You roll over onto your side, still holding your phone close to you as you both listen to each other’s breathing slowly evening out.

“I liked this,” you smile and he hums in agreement. You resist the sudden urge to tell him that you miss him, that you want to feel his arms around you and his breath on your neck as you fall asleep. “Good night, Dave,” you mutter instead.

“Good night, sweetheart,” his voice sounds through the speaker. You almost miss the way he quietly adds, “You look beautiful,” and you half assume that you’ve misheard him, but he ends the call before you can ask.

if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging, it literally makes my day <3

series masterlist

[whalesforhands]

i am an avid believer of pillow princess gojo and needy soft dom geto bc i am a part of the vanilla agenda (yes i know i am very boring). i feel like there’d be a few kinks here n there (maybe bondage? exhibitionism?? they seem like the type to like that) but overall they just wanna feel good with dyf!mc. I CAN IMAGINE THEM GETTING SOFT BUT WANTING MORE YK WHAT I MEAN?? MY MIND GOES BLANK THINKING ABT THAT RAHHH

-omori anon

whatever u want omori anon

more short but soft(ish) headcanons (nsfw)

warnings: fem!reader, this is NSFW, pls go away minors, 18+ only

satosugu

being together with this duo entails a lot of… ventures. not just in taking care of the 4 kids, helping them out with their homework, playing with them, testing out new recipes you saw in a magazine and on television and also just… trying to get back on your feet.

being with satosugu especially, when you finally show more comfort in activities of a more carnal nature, you’re not leaving the bed.

whilst you might think they prefer rough, hot and extremely vigorous bed exercises, they do. but when it comes to you, especially on your first night, it is insanely toned down. and it will remain that way until you express interest in going harder.

a lot of asking and forewarnings before taking any actions and a lot more of holding back on their end for your sake.

“can i touch you…?”

“i’m going to kiss you here, okay?”

“you sound so pretty… can you do that again for me, darling?”

“don’t squirm too much… ‘m gonna start.”

“ahh— fuck. don’t squeeze like that, i’m not going to last…”

“shit… you’re so gorgeous like that…”

“suck me off, please… wanna feel you…!”

their actions might be held back, but their kisses are not. every one taken from your lips feels like they’re trying to kiss you absolutely silly, until your head is filled with nothing but them.

“mmph…!” your tongues are entangling, the tempting swirl of your appendages moving vigorously as you feel his hand grasp onto yours almost desperately, fingers entwining just as he begins to pull away, a string of saliva connecting your once occupied lips, a gulp of air hastily swallowed by you as the flush of intimacy envelops your being. it isn’t long, not even enough for you to take in another breath before an impatient hand is already tilting your face towards his own, another set of familiar lips connecting your mouths for another restless makeout.

one round each? uhh… how about three?

“please, honey… i need another round, okay?” your thighs are already sore from having to bounce your hips on your own, your front collapsed onto his chest as you start to heave more, hair sticking to your face as exhaustion starts to catch up to you.

“don’t push her too hard if she can’t take it, satoru.”

“ehh? acting nice when you just went twice in a row is too mean to me, suguru…”

“at least i help do the work.”

“but it looks so cute when she’s struggling to do it herself…!”

jug of water right next to the bed because you’ll be here a long time. most of the time, there’s snacks provided too if satoru didn’t already eat them all.

cleanup is immediately done just for you the moment you look like you can’t handle anymore. no such thing as the ejaculate then evacuate here, not when your bare body is lifted in a princess carry to the bath to enjoy a bubble bath, a massage and suguru washing your hair for you as satoru helps brush your teeth.

bonus:

become a little more forward with their wants after your first night together. whether it be a new set of lingerie or cosplay in a wrapped box waiting on the bed, testing the waters by asking if you’re okay with pictures or videos or straight up being a little handsy.

i’m being serious about that last one.

you could be mid-conversation with gojo, telling him about your day as you sit with your back to his chest, his hands slithering their way under your shirt.

“and then shoko brought me to the old sushi place. the one with the mentaiko sauce i liked, but then i found out they didn’t serve any—“

“mhm, mhm.” he’s definitely only half listening when his hands rest on the skin of your stomach, fingers experimentally tracing shapes just below your breasts as you continue to talk, before you feel his hands quite literally start groping your mounds, flicking your nipples inbetween his fingers, squeezing your boobs etc. as you just… wonder if he’s still listening.

(it helps him focus)

[summerofofelia]

15 day BL challenge time!

OG here 🧡

Day 8 - The trope you hate except when it’s “this series”.

Throughout the course of my twenties, due to a combination of working with incredibly difficult people (never work in Australian media y’all) and navigating personal drama, I have learned that the best way to interact with people is through direct, honest communication. I have learned how to be gently confrontational, I am comfortable being uncomfortable and saying to someone, “hey, can we sit down and have a chat?” And as a result, I find myself huffing impatiently when miscommunication rears its ugly head.

Looking at you buddy

Ah yes, miscommunication. My arch nemesis. Miscommunication is the rotten toenail of tropes. So often it feels like a cheap way to manufacture drama because the writer was too lazy to come up with something more original.

If the central conflict of your story stems from a miscommunication that could be resolved if the characters had a two minute conversation, but instead you stretch this petty misunderstanding out for an infuriatingly long amount of time… ya boring. Go back to the drawing board. Think of how else you can create tension and obstacles that compel the audience to care.

So which show is my only exception?

BL: My Personal Weatherman.

My Personal Weatherman, for those unfamiliar, is essentially a story about two emotionally constipated dumbasses that are desperately in love with each other.

And I adore it.

So what makes their miscommunication different?

This is not a surface level miscommunication that can be solved with a simple conversation. It requires serious introspection, recognition of fears, voicing insecurities and allowing vulnerability. These are not things that happen overnight.

Yoh has incredibly low self esteem and believes he has nothing to offer Segasaki. He constantly downplays his abilities, despite the fact that throughout the series we see him being Segasaki’s safe space.

He can’t bring himself to be honest about his feelings to Segasaki (except when he’s drunk). He is confused by Segasaki’s actions and finds himself becoming resentful, finding reasons to hate Segasaki because he thinks his heart is the only one that races when they’re together.

Segasaki, on the other hand, wears a mask around others, feeling like Yoh is the only one that understands him. He can pretend with everyone else, but with Yoh he is utterly defenseless. Since day one he has been captivated by this man that sees right through him to his very core.

Segasaki desperately needs Yoh to be by his side, he craves him, and yet it takes seven episodes for him to finally break and say, I can’t breathe without you. Even after this declaration we see him tying Yoh up in an attempt to keep him from leaving, begging telling Yoh to be his and his alone, his insecurity palpable (also, he never actually tells Yoh about his insecurities, he just tortures himself in private). This moment of vulnerability is a turning point in their relationship.

And all this is externalised through a lack of communication, and not just that, but a lack of understanding about different communication styles. Segasaki is taken aback when he finds Yoh drunk and sullen, proclaiming that he will earn enough money to move out because Segasaki only sees him as a slave. Meanwhile Segasaki is like, wow, okay, first of all rude to say that to your husband.

But after this, Segasaki specifically takes Yoh out and they experience all these cute little date moments. It’s super sweet and everything is going well, until Yoh says, “hey, if you want to do something without me you can”, leading Segasaki to walk away despondently (and lie about having other plans) because he clearly thought they were on the same page (however, he still uses this time to buy Yoh a jumper while Yoh goes off to buy more sheets so they can fuck be intimate more often (because they’re both dumbasses who haven’t heard of a dryer)).

Through Segasaki’s actions, he thought he was clearly saying, “hey, I like you.” And yet, the lack of literal vocal communication meant these gestures went completely over Yoh’s head (literally at one point he says, this guy really needs to use more words!!). His low self esteem has created a barrier in their relationship. He doesn’t understand that Segasaki actually wants to be with him. How could this amazing man ever actually want him? And it’s understandable that he’s struggling, because Segasaki can be quite ambiguous with his words.

Now could all of this be resolved in one conversation? Not exactly, no. It’s more complicated than that. Which is why it works. Because there is something far deeper going on.

In order for these two to find each other, they have to overcome their own insecurities. They are each fighting an internal battle and don’t actually understand how to vocalise their needs and fears to each other.

It’s hard, but they get there eventually.

Dumbasses (affectionate).

[wufflesvetinari]

hi!! okay so i really loved that one fanfic you wrote (3:16) way back when, it's honestly one of my favorite fanfics ever but I have a question for you!! I've honestly adored your writing style and techniques and I was wondering: what is your writing process? Not just plot wise (although yes that!) but also prose-wise? because honestly, the first thing that drew me into your fic was how FUCKING good your prose was and I was just in absolute awe reading what you had written, and it sort of started me on a journey to improve my own prose and make it sound nice.

so uh yeah!! what is your writing process and if you have any advice for how you write so beautifully (Not just prose wise!! plot and character wise too haha) or just like. writing advice in general, i am ALL ears <3

oh this is so incredibly sweet, thank you!!!

i've tried to marshal some thoughts...tbh i am always envious of effective writing that is UNLIKE mine, so there are lots of ways to go about this. (and also i am just Some Guy.)

i'll focus on prose things i think about during writing/revision b/c otherwise we will be here all night...but imo some of this overlaps with effective pacing, character, etc.

Prose is character – some writing is “voicier” than other writing is, living closer in a character’s POV.  but in most cases, if you are in any way in a character’s head, your prose is part of their characterization. dick grayson will use different words and notice different details than damian will. being intentional about a character’s voice has the nice iterative effect of strengthening their characterization, which then makes your prose more confident as you understand their voice, and on and on it goes

Allow “workmanlike” phrases – sometimes cliché exists for a reason; you don’t actually need every sentence to be a poem. in fact, you NEED simple writing to string together your powerhouse lines without turning it all into purple prose/losing the reader/ruining the pacing.

Examine “workmanlike” phrases – that being said, another failure mode is RELYING on these phrases instead of digging for something more interesting now and then. i might write the phrase “a chill went down her spine” – ok this is fine, but I’ve read this sentence 15,000 times in my life and seeing it in my own document should be a trigger to slow down and decide if there’s a more specific or vivid description that conveys character or mood or theme better. or is just prettier lmao. i think to myself: how does it feel to be scared? what is a physical reaction that’s REAL that i have experienced, and am not just taking from a list in my head called “Descriptions Of Being Scared That Writers Use”?

The fucking thesaurus lmao – do not find/replace willy-nilly obviously BUT if the only word you can think of is Not Exactly The Right Word Dammit then the fucking thesaurus is a perfectly valid brainstorming tool to get closer to what you are trying to say. even if u don’t find the right word, it’s often a jumping-off point to a better way to approach the sentence

Note your “is”es – ok this is the annoying one. imo this really strengthened my writing but i hated it so so much. when revising, find any instance of “is/was/seems.” (ex: “He seems impatient, and there’s a pile of paperwork sitting in front of him.”) There’s nothing WRONG with that sentence, but it’s worth checking to see if it’s an opportunity for a more active one that gives more character detail (“He taps impatiently on a pile of paperwork.” there. done.)

Condense – ok look at that example again. i phrased things more actively but i ALSO condensed two concepts (He seems impatient + there is paperwork) into a sharper sentence that ALSO tells us a bit about how this character acts when stressed. imo you can accidentally find really interesting prose this way, in addition to improving pacing.

Vary sentence structure – that being said, sometimes the way to go is a beautiful run-on, so long as that sentence has intention packed into it! if you are writing long lovely flowing sentences, it’s going to hit hard if you drop the emotional reveal in a short, choppy, standalone one. or if your sentences shorten as the mood of the scene changes, or or or.

Use detail to let a scene breathe – personally, i never want to write the phrase “there was a pregnant pause” or “there was a brief silence” if i can help it. this is personal preference, but i think the principle stands: you can instead control your reader’s sense of timing, create an implied pause, by giving detail in the right place. the reverse is why it bothers me when a conversation is interspersed with paragraphs of introspection lmao: in my head i’m wondering why pov is taking so long to respond

Use repetition – oh my god this is my cheat code. if you are really proud of a beautiful, distinctive phrase you wrote? use it again!!! make it a callback at an important moment!!! make it thematic!! do it on purpose. trust me it’s cool

Get out of their head – ok here’s an experiment. take a concept (“Dick is scared”) and tell yourself that you have to express this, but you CAN’T describe anything about Dick himself in order to do it. you can use the way the crumbling buildings of gotham loom above him, or the weather, or the way people react to him—but you cannot say a word about his actions or thoughts or feelings. chances are, you’ve now created some interesting prose getting at the concept abstractly. cool! use that, and also go and add the direct feelings back in if it makes sense to do so

"Unconscious" writing - uhh ok this one is weird, but sometimes for a VERY early draft—like, when I am staring down the blank page—I will stop…trying to write a story? I will instead begin to write, uh…poetry about what is happening in the story? Just, impressions, details, stream-of-consciousness…this will all have to be cleaned up and made linear later. but for now, go nuts. and usually it gives me a) some workable, pretty prose and b) an entry point into what i am trying to say so i can go back and write the “real version”

Dissect!! Good!!! Writing!!! - i'm sorry, this one is so boring. but if there's a writer who really WORKS for you, read very slowly and break down what's so effective about it on a prose level. i do this with ursula le guin. also, do this with poetry!!! which poems slam you to the ground and take your lunch money? how?

i know you also asked abt plot and character but i've already written so much lmao plz forgive me. i am not a big craft book person but i did enjoy refuse to be done and a swim in a pond in the rain. i also try to collect tips i find in this tag!

[alexandrasstudycorner]

I dunno.

I've recently been undergoing this weird cycle of deleting and reinstalling social media, trying to fix my attention span, and go back to who I was.

When I think back to the COVID years, and how much I've changed, the magnitude is shocking. Till 2019, I never had access to phones, tablets, nothing. Only television, hobbies, school.

When lockdown came around, I fell into social media's trap. It took me a couple years to understand social media was ruining me, my health and my brain- take an example, I've stopped reading as many story books as I used to. I've become more impatient, I've started resorting to my phone for every little thing. It goes so far that I played video games all day while neglecting the fact that I had an exam the next day.

2024 started out well for me, and somewhere along the line, I lost myself. Yet again. And this time, it feels like nothing matters anymore. Like I don't have enough fucks to give.

To quote Em Beihold,

Do you ever get a little bit tired of life

Like you're not really happy but you don't wanna die

Like you're hanging by a thread but you gotta survive

'Cause you gotta survive

Like your body's in the room but you're not really there

Like you have empathy inside but you don't really care

Like you're fresh outta love but it's been in the air

Am I past repair

It feels so ugly to know you have the potential, but you ruined it yourself, and you got no one to blame. It's a frustrating cycle that I can't seem to get out of.

These lyrics hit home, because I really feel like I've given up on everything that had ever mattered to me- academics, my own health, mindful entertainment like reading and sports.

Heavy dependence on the phone. Uninstalled Instagram, moved to Roblox. It never fucking ends, I sometimes feel like I'm an addict.

I've pretty much given up on midterms after that shitshow of a Physics paper. Here's to hoping I can get my ass back up and study harder for the next set of exams, cause I myself (hypocritical but it is what it is) am not in the right state of mind to sit down and get anything done.

[ghoultrifle]

Phantom is trying to do maths because he wants to be the smartest ghoul like Aether. Swiss comes over and asks what he’s doing. Phantom starts explaining subspace (maths version), to which Swiss responds they should explore the good kind of subspace instead

Jimothy once again pulling through as my favourite maths nerd, everyone else please enjoy learning about subspaces <3 This was so much fun to write but i am incredibly impatient so this has not been proofread and will not be my best work, sorry not sorry! I kinda forgot about the whole subspace thing halfway through but I do not have the energy to go back soooo

Swiss is trans because I said so! cunt, clit, dick, cock used.

Phantom was laying on his bed, stomach on the mattress as he kicked his legs in the air, twirling an eraser pensively in his hands. His mouth was occupied with the tip of his pencil, gnawing on the bitter wood, his free hand supporting the weight of his chin. Shoulder-length locks kept falling, clouding his vision. He didn’t care, he was fed up of learning about subspaces.

“Why do I care if U is a subspace of V? And why do I need to keep proving it?” He pouted, only himself to hear the complaints in the now dim light of his room, the midday sun now sinking below the horizon.

Phantom was rubbing out the workings for the latest attempt at the question, he kept making silly mistakes: misreading the question or forgetting how to do simple maths.

“Stupid fucking ghoul, you’ll never be as smart as Aether, just face it!” The quintessence ghoul cried out to the void. But the void replied…

The young ghoul’s door opened, it was Swiss. “What’s wrong, Baby Bat?” He questioned, frowning at Phantom.

“Can’t do this fucking work. Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, something else goes wrong! What’s wrong with me, Swiss?”

“Oh hey, it’s alright, Bug. Nothing’s wrong with you. Looks like you’ve been here all day, you’re probably just in your own head.” Swiss patted Phantom on the back, alternating between pressure and smooth strokes. “What’re you trying to do anyway? Are chores not enough for you?”

“‘m learning about subspaces!” Phantom replied, a passion reignited in his voice.

“Learning about what?!” If Swiss had a drink he would have comically spat it out all over the ghoul next to him.

“Yeah, I enrolled in an online maths course ‘cause I wanted to be smart like Aether and Omega. This week’s work is all about subspaces. A subspace is a subset of a vector space that is itself a vector space but also satisfies the three subspace criteria.” Phantom ranted. Swiss was too entranced in the energy of the younger ghoul to stop him.

“The first criterion is that the subset can’t be empty, the second cri –” The multi ghoul was pulled out of his trance as a fiendish idea swirled around his mind, hands roughly grabbing Phantom’s cheeks as he kissed him hard - anything to shut the other ghoul up.

Swiss pulled away, taking in Phantom’s look of awe, “Sorry Tommy, maths is a sore spot for me, can’t listen to it.” He apologised.

“How about we explore the good kind of subspace instead, hmm?” The older ghoul asked, gently coaxing Phantom to sit up as he swiped the ghoul’s hard work off the bed, landing crumpled on the floor. That was a problem for future them.

“Oh okay but I really do need to finish that work,” Phantom replied, worriedly gazing at his hours of effort lying on the floor, Swiss’ calloused thumb rubbing his shoulder.

“Hmm Baby, it’s worse than I thought. You really do need to get fucked dumb,” the multi ghoul cooed. His brown eyes raked over the almost shaking ghoul beside him. Swiss would be lying if he said he didn’t have a thing for smart guys; there’s a reason he and Aether always shared a hotel room on tour. But he could also tell when someone just needed to be reminded how stupid they are, pliant under his touch and unable to form a coherent thought.

Through many a session with Aether, the multi ghoul had honed his quintessence, now at the ability of a teenage ghoul, and a horny one at that. “I’m gonna use a bit of magick, alright? Can you remember your safe actions?” Swiss asked in a loving tone, like honey lined his vocal cords, his words coating Phantom in a sickly sweet embrace.

“Mhm Sir, pickle or three leg taps if I can’t speak.”

Swiss shuddered at the honorific, seems Phantom wouldn’t need much help dropping today, his control already slipping at the mere suggestion of a scene.

“Good boy. Now let’s talk about our subspace criteria. First rule, a sub’s head must be empty.”

The older ghoul extended his fingertips to Phantom’s now-bare chest. Quintessence oozing from his digits, reaching in, shoving all the work on Phantom’s metaphorical desk onto the floor, leaving the ghoul devoid of thoughts.

“How are you feeling, my precious?” 

Phantom could only stare at him through lidded eyes, mouth agape as he attempted a nod. Swiss knew the answer to his rhetorical question, however. Phantom’s trousers were tented, the ghoul shifting where he was sat in an attempt to get some friction on his filled out cock.

Every movement was primal, a base instinct not tied down by societal rules. In any other scenario Phantom would be horrified at the blush working its way across his cheeks, unable to hide it with his leaden arms. Right now though, he isn’t even aware of his body’s reaction to the touch.

“Oh such a slut for me, aren’t you? Can’t even tell me how good you’re feeling. How hard you are in those tight little pants. Already leaking and I haven’t even told you the rest of the rules.” Swiss teased.

The quintessence ghoul’s blush only grew a deeper purple, contrasting his mottled skin. His head was vacant, half-formed thoughts fleeting by at incredible speeds, long disappeared over the horizon by the time he tried to acknowledge them.

“Second rule, a sub must be obedient,” a flustered Swiss declared, thinking on his feet now. He wanted to commit to the bit but didn’t think he’d get Phantom on board. “Do you think you can be a good boy for me?” he asked, knowing the words would get his dumb toy’s dick leaking as he cradled the smaller ghoul’s face, his hand easily reaching both ears.

As promised an almost imperceptible damp spot started to form on Phantom’s tight, dark pants, outlining the head of his cock. It was begging for release, sensitive and oh so hard. The quintessence ghoul fluttered his eyelids at the other, his way of saying Yes Daddy, I’ll be such a good boy for you.

Swiss was equally as affected, his clit rock solid while his cunt was creating a very sticky problem in Swiss’ boxers. But tonight wasn’t about him, it was about helping Phantom let go in every way possible. So he continued to let the wet patch grow as he recited the third rule.

“The third rule for a sub to be just perfect is for them to float away. Let me take care of you, bug.”

As Swiss was quoting the rule he reached down to unzip Phantom’s trousers, giving his weeping cock a few quick strokes through the red boxers, no doubt borrowed from Dewdrop. Phantom had just enough of a hold on reality to let out a choked moan as Swiss finally touched him. A small whimper came out when the multi ghoul removed his hand.

Swiss wasn’t a ghoul known for his patience, and that extended to the bedroom. It didn’t take long for him to decide that tonight Phantom would have to get off while pleasuring the multi ghoul because he’ll be damned if the new summon doesn’t have the hottest mouth. Of course the award for physically hottest mouth went to Dewdrop but Phantom’s soft, plump lips and limber tongue won the award for most pleasurable.

Swiss unbuckled his belt as he slid off his bottoms in one smooth motion, only tripping as the fabric got stuck around his ankle. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like the dazed ghoul on the bed could react in any way, still heavily under the influence of Swiss’ quintessence.

The multi ghoul stood there, dick jutting out between his folds. He always described himself as an outie, and he was proud of it. Phantom seemed even prouder, drool spilling from his lips as he watched Swiss give himself a few tugs before swiping at himself and giving it a taste.

“Like what you see, hmm?” Swiss mocked, reaching out to Phantom’s chest again to partially release him from the throes of his magick. “Well how about you show Daddy a good time then, baby bat.”

And with that Swiss was pushing down on Phantom’s ribs, forcing the younger ghoul onto his back as he straddled his midriff, trapping Phantom’s leaking cock beneath him.

“Ah Swiss, feels so mmm good.” The quintessence ghoul whined, in control of his voice once again.

“Oh, bug, toys don’t talk.” Swiss frowned, trying his best not to let his excitement show. He agonisingly inched his way up Phantom’s body, leaving a trail of slick behind him before his cunt arrived at those delicate lips. “Let’s put that mouth to good use instead, my love.”

Swiss lowered himself gently onto Phantom’s face letting the younger ghoul lick exploratively before sliding his tongue deep inside the multi ghoul. “Eat up,” he smirked.

And Phantom did. Anything to be a good boy, the promise of a reward implicit with Swiss. He could be mean but he’d never leave a lover unsatisfied. So Phantom ate Swiss out like his life depended on it. By the way his cock was kicking, leaking pre over his happy trail, it really felt like his life did depend on it.

The skilled tongue laved against Swiss’ walls, a heady mix of spit and slick coating his insides. Phantom’s tongue occasionally departing to give kitten licks to his clit before sucking the bud whole, hollowing his cheeks to show the multi ghoul just how big he was. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Unholy fuck Ant, forgot how good your tongue was.” Swiss pleaded, any attempt at keeping a stern demeanour now in the past.

Even with his mouth occupied, Phantom was far from quiet. He was attempting to set a ministry record in getting Swiss off, and he knew exactly what buttons to push. A little ah here mixed in with breathy moan there and Swiss was coming apart, quickly. The multi ghoul loved an expressive partner, his already large ego inflated any time someone moaned.

Phantom was beginning to flag, limbs still heavy under Swiss’ spell and tongue beginning to tire from its intense workout. The larger ghoul took pity on the whimpering ghoul, handing him a pillow from the top of the bed. It was encased in a grey cover and it was firm, Phantom needed a lot of neck support when asleep. 

Swiss craned his neck behind him to see he didn’t even need to tell the younger ghoul what to do with it, the pillow already shoved deep between his thighs as he spared all his extra energy into rocking into it.

“Fuck Phantom, such a good boy for me,” Swiss encouraged “humping that pillow so well. Bet you wish it was me sinking onto you, clenching around that lovely cock of yours as I use you.”

Both ghouls were getting close; Swiss at the sight of his partner desperately humping a pillow, and Phantom at the friction said pillow was providing. The case was covered in streaks of pre, getting more wet with each thrust of the quintessence ghoul’s ruddy cock, only spurring him on as the shame hit.

Phantom was a ghoul that got off primarily on shame. Something about doing these sinful acts with his packmates left him hard like nothing else. He learned all these rules during his summoning about how humans are supposed to act, it was ingrained in him by Papa. So now when he does anything outside the norm he feels that hot shame coursing through him, straight to his dick.

Phantom’s hips were canting up rapidly to the soft fabric of the pillow case, now a dark grey. He was unable to do anything but moan against Swiss’ folds, and hope the larger ghoul was as close as he was.

His skilled lips were assaulting Swiss’ cock, doing his best to give Swiss the best blowjob of his life as the multi ghoul’s slick ran down his chin. The t-dick was engorged as Phantom sucked and swirled his tongue around the growth. All it took was a well timed breath from Phantom, hot air engulfing his cunt as the smaller ghoul emptied his lungs. 

The sensation had Swiss cumming with a yell, Phantom quick to resume his efforts on his clit as Swiss rode out his orgasm.

“Satanas, bug, I should dumb you down more often, that was incredible.” Swiss praised as he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. Looking down he could see the mess he made of Phantom’s face, shining, covered in his release.

Phantom was smiling back at the older ghoul, proud of his work but desperately hard and teetering on the edge. The pillow was great but he just needed more. 

“Oh were you hoping I was going to get you off?” The multi ghoul chimed, “Think again, bug. Need you to hump it like you do when you’re alone. And don’t pretend you don’t, Rain told me everything.”

His hips bucked harder at the request, humiliation setting in. “Can I move, Daddy?” he asked tentatively.

“The stage is yours, darling.” Swiss replied as he blew the ghoul a kiss, already feeling a puddle of slick forming beneath him.

The quintessence long worn off by now as the new summon manoeuvred himself onto all fours, adding the pillow to a stack between his thighs before he started thrusting his cock into the pile. Each cant left him panting and whining for more.

“Look at my little toy, getting off on a pillow like a good boy.” 

Phantom keened at the praise, spurring him on. His full body weight was on the stack of pillows now, his cock sliding easily into the creases of the fabric as his hips moved, no longer a conscious motion. He just needed to cum, soon.

It was just the wrong side of enough stimulation but he was determined to make it work, to be a good boy for Swiss.

The next time Phantom looked up, Swiss was tugging himself between his thumb and forefinger, moaning at the sight before him. That was enough to push the quintessence ghoul over the edge. He grabbed his cock harshly, no longer caring about the implicit ‘no touching’ rule that sessions with Swiss involve. As he stroked his shaft the pillow beneath him was painted a delicious white, Phantom’s head thrown back as he whined.

He knelt on the bed as he came down from his high, marvelling at the art he produced. Looking over at Swiss, he was shaking his head, a frown adorning his usually joyous face.

“Good toys don’t touch themselves.” He tutted, “Do it again.”

Phantom sighed, gripping his soft cock as he tried to coax it to life once more. The only saving grace being the whorish ghoul touching himself beside him. They were going to be here a while, Phantom definitely wouldn’t be finishing his homework tonight.

[abiiors]

VEEEEEEE, i messaged you a few days ago that i was at work and thinking many thoughts of ross and i am once again at work and thinking many thoughts of our big beautiful man…

IN PARTICULAR idk why this is the scenario on my mind but ROSS HAVING A CRUSH ON YOU 🤭🤭🤭 and being sosoooooo smitten and soft for you…. (gnawing at my enclosure) like in this scenario i keep thinking about, it’s ross waiting for you to show up to like an intimate gathering of friends and you’ve met the boys and everyone before through charli cause that’s bestie (need her expeditiously) and you and ross really hit it off!! his head is full of nothing but thoughts of you!! so he’s clearly distracted until you get there then he’s all smiles and laughs and gentle touches (need to be institutionalized) but ALSO until you get there he’s all impatient and antsy asking charli if you let her know what time you’d be there but he asks it more than once so everyone starts teasing him for having a crush and then they tease him even more once you get there cause his whole demeanor changes i’m thinking many normal thoughts 😍😍😍

OH MY GODDDDDDD ANON YOU'RE IN MY HEAD BECAUSE THIS IS LITERALLY A SLEEP SCENARIO FOR ME!!!! i love the whole dynamic of having a crush so much, it's just SO. SOFT. 😭😭

yes, absolutely, you've been introduced to their friend group through charli because she is the fucking coolest and makes an offhanded comment like "hmmm you know what now that you're single, there's someone i wanna introduce you to" (that someone being ross obv) and you do absolutely hit it off but maybe you're both a bit shy at first to ask each other out immediately. like you like each other a lot and worry that the other might not feel the same but oh lordddd he is so down bad.

he's quite good at hiding it though, or maybe he thinks he's quite good at hiding it 🤭 like he won't go up to charli and directly ask her when you're coming. he'd instead just casually be like "oh, thought your friend was coming too, isn't she?" all cool and aloof as if he doesn't care, he's just 'curious' but charli instantly clocks it and smirks at him like "well, aren't you curious!!! she's running a bit late don't worry. she'll be here in 15, i just got a text from her."

and he spends the next 15 minutes trying not to hover near the door so he can be the one to open it once the doorbell rings. anyway, he isn't the one to open it--george is. and you go around saying hello to people and hugging both george and charli before you shyly wave at ross and fix your hair a bit (self conscious, it was kinda windy outside and ross finds it so adorable that your hair is all unruly and messy in a very effortlessly sexy way)

charli immediately hooks her arm with yours and pulls you towards ross and goes "so ross is really good at making cocktails and you were saying how you were gasping for a good martini!" and then she sorta pushes you both together towards her home bar and says "go ahead, use whatever you like"

while your back is turned she also throws a wink at ross who rolls his eyes and mouths a silent thank you (she really is a good wingwoman) and well turns out he is really good at making cocktails. you even comment on it and he's like "come on i'll teach you." so you hold the shaker in your hands a bit unsure until you feel him right behind you and so close that you can almost feel the heat radiating off him. his cologne is mouth-wateringly good and you fucking want to turn around and pull him into a kiss.

he is no better tho--his heart is fucking hammering in his chest because he really does fancy you so much and you're so fucking close to him. so he does the second best thing which is wrapping his hand over yours under the guise of teaching you how to make a martini.

your hand is so small and soft in his and it's like the first time he's ever properly touched you so he feels like he's fucking sixteen again. no one is paying attention to the martini, you're both just busy blushing and being idiots in general. <3